


Put My Mind At Ease (Pretty Please)

by bright_lights_big_dreams



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Anxiety, Bellamy just wants to look after Clarke, Bellarke, Clarke is 18 and Bellamy 24 when things get romancey, Dirty Talk, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied mental illness, Mentions of Cancer, Minor Character Death, Non-Explicit Sex, Panic Attacks, Protective Bellamy, Recreational Drug Use, Underage Drinking, age gap, this fic is literally full of unhealthy coping mechanisms, title from Pretty Please - Dua Lipa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 10:43:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 50,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23470099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bright_lights_big_dreams/pseuds/bright_lights_big_dreams
Summary: Bellamy had watched Clarke grow up and in turn that meant watching her life fall apart. All he wants to be able to do is make everything better for her. He wants to look after her, but she doesn't know how to let him.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 24
Kudos: 170





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is what happens when I'm supposed to do uni from home. I ignore it and start writing fanfiction for the first time in 3 years instead. Have fun with this mess.

Bellamy was eleven the first time he met Clarke. Octavia had been at school for a few months, and had spent most of that time raving about her new best friend so it made sense that she would be around for a play date at some point, not that he was looking forward to it. He loved Octavia, but god she was hard work. At five years old she was loud, had tantrums almost daily and seemed to leave a path of chaos wherever she went, so he just assumed any of her friends would be the same and the last thing he wanted was more annoying children distracting him whilst he tried to watch the documentary series about ancient Greece his mum had found in the charity shop. To his surprise, however, Clarke had been pretty much the opposite of Octavia. She was quiet, polite, and never seemed to make a mess, so all in all Bellamy wasn’t too bothered about his sister’s choice in best friend.

For that first couple of years that’s all Clarke was to Bellamy, his annoying little sister’s quiet best friend, but at thirteen years old he started to find out a bit more about her. His mum sat him down one day, and told him she was thinking of starting a second job. She had told him it would be good in the fact that they’d have more money and be able to have nicer food and new clothes and maybe she could even start saving up for a new car, but it also meant that Bellamy would have to step up and start looking after Octavia more. Of course, he had said that was okay. He enjoyed looking after Octavia (most of the time) and he knew that this was something his mum wouldn’t have suggested unless they needed to do it.

However, his mum starting her new job also coincided with Clarke’s dad getting a promotion which resulted in him having to travel a lot more for work. This resulted in Clarke spending a lot more time at his house which meant at thirteen years old he found himself looking after two seven-year olds almost daily. He still wasn’t sure exactly what it was that caused it but it was also around this time that Clarke decided to come out of her shell and start acting up. She was nowhere near as bad as Octavia but it was still incredibly frustrating when the angelic looking blonde would take a dislike to something and react by literally giving him the silent treatment. She would stop whatever they were doing, whether that was eating or talking or playing a game and just sit in complete silence ignoring everything he said to her. At the time he had assumed that it was simply the lack of adults that made her feel like she could be naughty, but looking back now he thought it was a lot more likely that Jake travelling a lot meant that she was now missing the only parent who really gave her the amount of attention a seven year old needed from their parents, it was just a shame he hadn’t known that then.

Even if the beginning was a little rough, the three of them settled into a comfortable routine soon enough. His mum often worried that he was missing out on being a teenager, and true, he couldn’t do as much as his friends could. He couldn’t always go out with them after school or on the weekends but, honestly, he really didn’t mind. He knew it sounded strange for a newly fourteen-year-old boy but he liked looking after Octavia and Clarke. He liked walking them home from school and cooking them dinner and helping them with their homework and being able to make them feel better if they were upset or unwell or hurt. He felt comfortable doing it, and he was happy and he could make sure that Octavia and Clarke were happy and he was helping his mum out so, truly, fourteen-year-old Bellamy was very content with his life.

Bellamy had always known that the Griffin’s had a lot more money that his family did, he could tell from the quality of the clothes Clarke wore and the cars that her parents would drive when they picked her up but he didn’t process exactly how wealthy they were until he took Octavia to her best friends 9th birthday party. It was the first time he had seen Clarke’s house, and it was big. He had always thought that his three-bedroom home was more than enough for any small family, but this house was just insane. The party itself didn’t particularly scream a 9-year-old girl’s birthday party either. Looking around he thinks he can count the number of actual children here on his fingers, the majority of the other guests seem to be Abby or Jake’s colleagues rather than anything else. He doesn’t feel particularly comfortable here, but he knows this isn’t the kind of party where he can leave Octavia unsupervised so he stays, finding a quiet spot in the garden where he can work on the homework he bought with him and also keep an eye on the kids, because no one else here seems to be. 

It’s sometime after the party that Bellamy begins calling Clarke princess. He does it as a joke, to begin with, before discovering it actually seemed to annoy her, at which point he carried on because it was funny to see Clarke angry sometimes. It sticks somehow. Even when Clarke stops getting annoyed at it and just accepts that he’s not going to stop, perhaps even begins to like it. It suits her, she was the closest thing to a princess he knew.

The illusion that Clarke lived the easy life of a princess is shattered when Bellamy is seventeen. It had just been a normal day that he spent lounging around, swapping between Netflix and school work whist making sure Octavia and her friend weren’t getting into too much trouble. At eleven years old they were definitely beginning to push boundaries and see what they could really get away with, which at the moment mainly consisted of them of dropping swear words into conversations and then giggling with each other like they did when they whispered about who they found cute at school. They were kids, it was how they were supposed to be acting and that was perfectly fine but when Octavia called his name from where the girls were in her room and he could hear the panic in her voice he knew something wasn’t right.

“What’s wrong, O?” He responded, already on his way up the stairs where he could see her stood in her doorway with a look of panic on her face that matched her voice.

“I think Clarke’s dying! She says she can’t breathe and-“

Bellamy swore internally, the first thing popping into his head was that Clarke could be having an allergic reaction, even though as far as he was aware, she had no allergies. He wasn’t ready to deal with that; he knew basic first aid but he wasn’t prepared for any truly life threatening situations. However, when he pushed past Octavia and actually saw Clarke curled up on the bed, back pressed against the wall, he knew what was happening. He couldn’t see her face but he could hear in the way she was breathing and see in the way her hands were clenched in her hair that she was having a panic attack. He’d helped friends that struggled with panic attacks before, and hell, he’d even experienced a couple in his own life but Clarke was just a child, she shouldn’t have to be dealing with this. 

He sat down next to her slowly, speaking softly as he did so to make sure that she definitely knew he was there. “Clarke. I promise you’re going to be okay. You’re having a panic attack so I need you to breathe for me, okay?

Clarke didn’t verbally respond, just shook her head and let out a gut-wrenching whimper that almost broke Bellamy’s heart. He glanced up at where Octavia was hovering in the doorway, giving her what he hoped was a reassuring nod before turning his attention back to Clarke. He could tell she must be hurting herself with the way that her hands were clenched and pulling at her hair.

“You can do it, Princess. Look at me okay, I need you to look at me and focus. Hold my hand and look at me.” He reached his hand out to one of hers, untangling it slowly from her hair and doing his best to nod encouragingly as she lifted her head slightly, bloodshot blue eyes meeting his.

“Well done, you’re doing great. We’re going to breathe now okay, together. In for four, and out for four. And again. You too O, come on,” he reached his other hand out to his sister who still had a terrified expression on her face, “We’re all going to breathe together, okay? In and out. You’re doing good Clarke. In again, and out again.”

It was working. Bellamy could hear Clarke’s breathing begin to even out and see her body begin to relax as the tension in her muscles dissipated. He went through the breathing exercises a few more times until he was sure that the worst of the attack had passed.

“There we go, you feeling a bit better now?” Bellamy asked and Clarke just nodded. That was good enough for now. “Go and get some water O.”

Octavia was back with a glass of water quickly, and Bellamy let Clarke drink as much as she wanted before speaking again.

“Do you want to talk about what happened?” He asked, glancing between his sister and Clarke.

Clarke spoke first, “I-I don’t really know. I was fine and then I just couldn’t breathe.”

Bellamy didn’t believe that for a second.

“What were you guys talking about before?”

“I can’t remember I-“ Clarke began to talk again before Octavia cut her off.

“Abby.” Octavia ignored the glare Clarke sent her way, “Clarke’s upset because Abby’s making her stop her art classes and wants to throw away all of her supplies.”

Bellamy had seen the amount of art supplies Clarke had and, even knowing nothing about art, he knew that they must be worth hundreds if not thousands of dollars. He feels guilty for the bitterness that rises up when he thinks about the idea of just throwing away that much money, now is not the time for his complex about just how much money the Griffin’s have.

Clarke spoke up again then, voice still croaky and catching slightly, “My dad’s trying to convince her to change her mind but I don’t think he’ll be able to, especially cause he’s not going to be home for a few weeks. She thinks I need to concentrate on school. I know it’s stupid, I just don’t want to have to stop art. I like it.”

Bellamy doesn’t doubt she’s wrong. Jake always means well, but Abby is ridiculously stubborn (a trait she’s indubitably passed on to Clarke) and once she’s made her mind up Bellamy has never seen it changed. He knew Abby was intense but this seems unreasonable even for her. Clarke is only eleven, she doesn’t need to concentrate on school yet, and it’s not like she isn’t already top of her most of her classes anyway.

“It’s not stupid, princess. You should be allowed to keep doing the things that you enjoy. I’ll tell you what though, if your mum does want you to get rid of all your art supplies, try and sneak some over here, and that way you can still get all artistic over here, even if you can’t at home.” Bellamy suggests. Clarke doesn’t just like art, she’s actually really good at it as well, and he can’t bare the idea of her not being able to carry on with it at all, especially when it clearly means so much to her.

Clarke looks at him then, blue eyes wider than he thinks he’s ever seen them, “Are you sure? Would that be okay?” Her voice is still quite breathy, still a little wobbly but he can see the hint of a smile behind her lips.

“Of course, princess.” He responds softly, standing up and taking a breath whilst trying to think of something that could lighten the mood. “Now, you two. I’m thinking we head downstairs and put a film on. Something funny. Maybe I’ll even let you put one of your crappy rom-coms on. How does that sound?”

Octavia responds enthusiastically. Bellamy knows she doesn’t quite understand what’s just happened but he’ll talk to her later, when Clarke’s gone home. He’ll make sure she knows what to do if it happens again and he’s not there. Clarke isn’t quite as vocal with her agreement but she smiles and nods and right now Bellamy will take that.

That was definitely the day that Bellamy noticed that maybe Clarke’s life wasn’t as easy as he’d always assumed it was going to be. Yes, she had money and would likely never be facing the same struggles that his family did in regards to simply surviving, but Bellamy could not fathom the idea of being put under so much stress by his mum that he would be driven to a panic attack, let alone when he was eleven years old. 

He wondered if Abby knew exactly how upset Clarke was about her wanting her to stop her artwork, and he worried that the answer was yes. 

The next time Clarke comes round her bag is full of paints and pencils and paper and pens and he doesn’t say anything as he clears her a shelf to put them on, but he makes a conscious decision to try and keep an eye on what’s going on at Clarke’s home more.

That’s easier said than done however, over the next few months Clarke isn’t particularly talkative about her home life and he doesn’t want to be too overbearing. However long he’s looked after her and watched her grow up, they’re still not technically family and he doesn’t want to overstep his mark. He’s in the process of trying to work out if there’s any other way he can make sure she’s definitely okay when everything goes wrong.

His mum gets sick.

It’s…not too bad for the first few months. She’s on a lot of medication but she can still work, still live normally apart from a couple of minor side effects from the medication, but then she gets worse and has to go through chemotherapy. Bellamy is a few months off finishing high school. He had been considering applying to college, but that idea is dropped, instead of being able to study he has to get a part time job and whatever time he’s not working he spends looking after his mum and O. It’s okay though, his family is far more important than any minor dreams he had of continuing his education right now. He had been worried about O at the beginning. She had never been the best at dealing with negative emotions but she actually seemed to be doing really well. She gets angry less, and stops getting into (as much) trouble at school. She does her homework without complaint and is always willing to help around the house. He thinks she’s trying to distract herself more than anything. Their mother may not have been around as much as any of them would have liked growing up but they both knew she was working to give them the best life possible, and she was always there when they needed her.

The Griffins are a godsend throughout his mothers’ illness. Clarke doesn’t come around as much, obviously, but when she does, she’s always bringing food and household items that will be useful and Bellamy is not in a position that he can say no to them, he knows Abby gave them to her to give to him anyway. Abby may not know the most about being a mum to a teenager, but holding a very high position at the hospital in the city means that she does know about what his mum is going through. She goes through all the medical terms and details with them as many times as they need, works hard to get Aurora the best doctors she can and the best medicines, but it still doesn’t work.

His mum dies just over two years after she first got sick. He finds himself nineteen years old and the legal guardian of his thirteen-year-old little sister. It’s hard to adjust, and it takes a long time. In the beginning its impossibly hard to even exist knowing that his mum isn’t there anymore, let alone having to go to work and make sure Octavia is okay, but he manages, they manage. Bellamy gets a new job, at a publishing company. It’s not the fanciest job, he’s honestly a glorified office admin but he’s happy there and it gets him enough money for him and O to live comfortably.  
The older Clarke and Octavia grow the more inseparable they get. At fourteen years old he’s comfortable to leave them alone while he’s at work all day, and whilst it means he doesn’t know exactly what they get up to anymore he feels relatively confident that he’s helped raise them to not be too stupid. They spend almost all their free time together and are pretty much always at the Blake household. He doesn’t know all the details, but he knows that Clarke has been arguing with Abby a lot recently, and Jake has been off somewhere on business for a couple of months now, meaning the Griffin household is more like a war-zone that a family home right now. 

Bellamy’s 20th birthday was bittersweet, it was his first without his mum, but O and Clarke put so much effort into making it a special day for him there was no way he couldn’t be happy. His last couple of birthdays had fallen at times when his mum was particularly struggling, so this was the first one that had been properly celebrated for a few years. He comes home from work to find the living room decorated with balloons and streamers and occupied by the people he’s closest to in his life. There’s Murphy and Miller, who he met when he started high school and he’s considered as his best friends for a long time now, and then there’s Gina. He and Gina had dated for almost a year when they were sixteen, and whilst they hadn’t worked out romantically, they had remained close friends and he would never be able to repay her for all the help she had given him throughout everything that had happened with his mum. Finally, there was Octavia and Clarke, of course, grinning ear to ear as they burst into a rendition of happy birthday that left a lot to be desired in regards to their musical talent, but left an enormous smile plastered on his face nevertheless.

Bellamy felt content. He was the happiest he had been in a long time, and so were the people around him, and that was what mattered most in life, wasn’t it?

It was just a shame it wouldn’t stay that way for long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes that was 3000 words of background info and scene setting. Sue me. The drama starts next chapter. i think I've got everything I need in the tags but if you notice anything you think should be in there please let me know. The next chapter is almost finished so should be out within the week.  
> (also we stan feedback so hi)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter...definitely got away from me.  
> Anyway, enjoy (possibly not the right word) 13k words of messy Clarke and angsty things  
> Have fun

Bellamy hung up the phone, pausing to swallow the uncomfortable lump that had formed in his throat over the course of the short phone call with Abby. He glanced at the door to the living room. He could hear Octavia and Clarke laughing hysterically at something. It was a good mood that was about to be horrifically crushed. He had known something was wrong when Abby’s name popped up on his phone, she only ever seemed to call with bad news. Clarke had spent the past two nights at the house, mentioning another argument with her mum in passing as her reason for not wanting to go home. He had figured Abby would be calling to get hold of Clarke, and she was, to give some bad news that had now become his job. 

The lump had reformed in his throat. He swallowed again as he opened the door to find the girls engrossed in a video on Clarke’s phone. Abby had tried to call her first but she had obviously ignored her mother’s attempts to contact her.

“Clarke, your mum just called,” Clarke rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to say something but Bellamy cut her off before she could, “Your dad – Your dad’s been in a car accident. She’s asked me to bring you to the hospital as quickly as possible.”

The room was silent for a moment too long, the only sound coming from the stupid video still playing on Clarke’s phone. 

The journey to the hospital is a blur. Abby didn’t really give any details, just that Jake had been in a car accident and Clarke needed to be at the hospital as soon as possible, but he could tell by the sound of her voice that Jake wasn’t okay. Clarke had pretty much shut down when she heard the news. She didn’t talk, didn’t cry, just sat in the back of the car staring out the window. From an outsider’s point of view the only clue that something could have been wrong was the constant bouncing of her leg. He wasn’t an outsider though, he knew Clarke, and he knew that her mind must be racing right now.

When he gets Clarke to Abby the heaviness that had placed itself in his gut sunk even further. In all his years of knowing the Griffins, he had never seen Abby look anything less than composed, even during his mum’s illness, but now she looked anything but. She had clearly been crying, and was still wearing her uniform which told him that she had no time to spare in getting to Jake. She actually hugged Clarke when they walked in, which is something he hadn’t seen since the blonde was much younger, and she actually looked vaguely uncomfortable in her mother’s embrace. Clarke still didn’t cry.

He and Octavia left the hospital with promises of helping Clarke and her mother with anything they needed, and although they didn’t discuss it, he knew that they were both thinking the same thing – the last time they’d been at the hospital was when their mother died, and it was looking like Clarke was also about to experience the death of a parent.

Jake’s life support is turned off two days later. He’s brain-dead. There’s nothing that can be done. 

He messages Clarke and Abby giving his condolences and reiterating that he and Octavia would do anything they could for them, but he also knows how empty the words feel at times like these. He’s not expecting to see or hear from Clarke for a while. He’s expecting her to be staying at home with Abby whilst they both help each other through that first wave of all-consuming intense grief that follows the loss of someone you love. 

He doesn’t expect Clarke to show up at the house only a couple of days after Jake’s death. It’s around lunchtime on a Wednesday (his day off), so Octavia is at school. She’s wearing an oversized hoodie which he thinks might have been Jake’s and black leggings and she looks exhausted. He can tell from how pale her skin is and the dark bags under her eyes that she can’t have been getting much sleep.

She doesn’t say much, just that she wants to paint. He says that’s okay, of course, and he doesn’t want to hover but he’s also too worried not to watch as she pulls out some watercolours and sits herself down at the table. He asks if she’s eaten and she hasn’t so he makes her some lunch and gets her a drink while she works, again trying not to smother her too much. When she’s finished eating, he asks if there’s anything else she needs and she says no but he can’t help but feel that he isn’t doing enough for her. It’s not right, she shouldn’t be here. She should be at home with Abby. When he lost his mum, Octavia was one of the only things that pushed him through those first couple of weeks, he doesn’t know what he would have done if he didn’t have her.

“How’s your mum doing?” He asks, watching her face closely to gage her reaction.

Clarke shrugs but her expression doesn’t change at all, she stays hunched over her paper, concentrated fully on whatever she’s painting. “She went back to work today. Says that it’s good for her to keep distracted, to stop wallowing,” she lets out a dry laugh after that, “She says I can stay off school for the rest of this week, but I need to go back next week.”

That’s not fair. Throwing herself into her work might be the way that Abby works through her grief, but she has a fifteen-year-old daughter to think about, that she should be with right now, supporting through what is easily the hardest thing that has ever happened in her life. She shouldn’t be going to work and leaving her all alone in a massive, empty house that will currently just be filled with painful memories. It’s not fair on Clarke. She deserves better. 

He doesn’t say any of that out loud though, just shoots her a sympathetic smile and reminds her that she’s welcome to come to the house whenever she wants, no exceptions. He even gives her the spare key; in case she needs to come around at a time when he and Octavia aren’t home. If Abby wouldn’t, or couldn’t, look after Clarke how she needed, he was sure as hell going to do his best.

They settle into a quiet afternoon, Clarke painting at the table while Bellamy sits opposite her, reading a new historical novel that he managed to get early due to his job at the publishing company. He isn’t entirely focused on the book though, he’s too worried about Clarke, can’t stop watching her from the corner of his eye, waiting for something that he isn’t sure will happen.

It does though. She stops painting suddenly, almost throwing the brush down and blurting out words so quickly that it seems like they’ve forced their way up her throat and out of her mouth. “Does it ever stop hurting? Because sometimes I think I might feel better and then it all comes rushing back but it’s worse and it just hurts so much, Bell. I don’t know how to get through this.” Her voice cracks at the end, and her eyes are getting shiny with tears.

He puts his book down, taking a moment to try and decide what to say but making sure he’s maintaining eye contact with her, so that she knows he’s listening. “In a way, no. You’ll think about your dad all the time, and you’ll always miss him and that will hurt, and I know it won’t feel like it now but as time passes it’ll also get easier to remember the things about him that made you happy. When my mum first died, I didn’t think I’d ever be able to move forward, and yeah it still hurts when I think about her but it’s almost a nice pain. It hurts that she’s gone but I remember all the happy memories she gave me and I’m grateful for every single one of them. It just, takes a bit of time for it to get to that stage.”

Clarke doesn’t respond for a moment, considering what he said and nodding slowly, but then her first tear falls, “I just…I miss him, so much, and I don’t know how I’m never going to see him again.”

Bellamy is by her side in an instant, wrapping his arms around her as she cries into his shoulder. He rubs what he hopes are soothing circles into her back, just letting her cry. Part of him hates seeing her like this, wants to fix it even though he knows there’s absolutely nothing he can do to make this any better, but the other part of him is slightly relieved that she’s actually letting herself feel the painful emotions rather than just bottling them up. 

When she’s stopped crying, Bellamy suggests sitting down and watching a film, which Clarke agrees to, but about half an hour in she is fast asleep on the couch, which is honestly what he’d been hoping would happen. She needed to sleep. He keeps an eye on her phone while she sleeps, waiting for a text from Abby checking up on how her only daughters doing after she’s been left alone just days after her father’s tragic death. It never comes. 

After that, Bellamy knows for sure that Clarke isn’t getting the support she needs from her mother, so he makes sure that she’s getting it from him or Octavia wherever possible. He hopes that he’s doing enough. As time passes, Clarke does seem to work through her grief and begin returning to her normal self. Mostly. There’s an edge to her that wasn’t there before, she’s a lot more likely to get angry and snap and cry and panic but that’s understandable. She can’t lose her father and be expected to come out the other side as the same person. Clarke’s relationship with Abby, however, does worry Bellamy. He was hoping that they would grow closer, that maybe they both just needed to grieve on their own before they could come back together and be a family but it’s not working out that way. If anything, they’re just being pushed farther apart. They hardly speak to each other anymore, and if they do it seems to almost always end in an argument.

Abby actually goes away on a work conference over Clarke’s sixteenth birthday. The blonde says that she doesn’t care but Bellamy can’t believe that. He remembers how much effort she and Octavia put into making his first birthday without his mum amazing, and it both made him angry and hurt him that her own mother wouldn’t do the same for her. He asks her about it a lot in the lead up to her birthday, trying to gain a more accurate insight into her emotions but she always just insists that she’s fine and that she doesn’t want to do anything big anyway. He knows he’s beginning to wind her up with the constant concern so he lays off a bit and accepts what she says, even if he doesn’t believe her. 

Clarke’s birthday is on a Thursday, and they get a takeaway and have a movie night and it’s nice but it’s not enough. Bellamy wants to be doing more for her. The girls announce that they’re going to sleep over at Clarke’s the next night, have a girly night with pizza and movies and maybe they’ll get in the hot tub. They make sure that they tease him about inviting Echo over before they leave.

He only rolls his eyes at them but they’re right, it’ll be nice to spend a night with Echo in his home where they don’t need to worry about two nosey teenagers interrupting them or hearing something they shouldn’t. He and Echo aren’t dating, they’re just friends that also enjoy sleeping together and that is all that he needs at the moment. They have a nice night together. Bellamy enjoys being around someone his own age and not having to worry about two teenage girls, and doesn’t even find himself tempted to check up on them, knowing that they’d call him if they needed to.

He regrets that decision the next morning when he opens his phone and sees the pictures Clarke and Octavia have been tagged in on Facebook. They’d had a party. And not a small one if those pictures were anything to go by.

“Little shits!” He exclaims, scrolling through the pictures and not liking what he sees.

There was alcohol, and both the girls definitely looked drunk, and in some of the later photos he sees Clarke all over some lanky boy with shoulder length hair. He checks his name. Finn Collins. He thinks he’s heard the girls mention him, a new boy at their school who started this year. At least he’s the same age as them.

His exclamation woke Echo up, who rolled over to face him with a groggy “What?”

“They had a party!” He growls through gritted teeth.

“Who?” He knows Echo is still half asleep but seriously, who else would he be talking about?

“Octavia and Clarke!” He complains and Echo snorts in response, “It’s not funny! They’re sixteen! Anything could have happened!”

“It is a bit funny. They’re just being teenagers Bell.” Echo’s more awake now, looking at the photos with him.

“I’m gonna have to go over there, make sure everything’s okay.” Bellamy decides, rolling out of bed and grabbing some clean clothes.

“Really, Bell?” Echo rolls her eyes, “Why don’t you at least try and call them first?”

“What, so they can lie to me again? I don’t think so.” He knew he was being slightly irrational but this felt like the first time Octavia, and by extension Clarke, had really betrayed him. Okay, betrayed was a bit extreme but they had betrayed his trust and he didn’t like the feeling that came along with it. Anger was the overriding emotion he could feel but it was mixed with a definite sense of disappointment and an underlying surge of guilt. He was the parent in this situation, and he had let himself get distracted by Echo and taken his eye off the ball. It wouldn’t be happening again.

“Look, Echo, I’m sorry but I have to go. You’re more than welcome to stay here for as long as you want or I can drop you home, I really don’t mind but-“

Echo just sighs and interrupts him, “It’s fine Bell, I know you feel responsible for them. Go and I’ll let myself out soon.”

He nods, fully dressed and with his car keys in his hand, “Thanks, Echo, I am sorry,” he heads towards the bedroom door, “and I don’t just feel responsible for them, I am responsible for them. You know I’m Octavia’s guardian.”

“And what about Clarke?”

Bellamy pauses for a moment, debating his answer, “I’m the only one she’s got looking out for her.”

Bellamy is outside Clarke’s front door within 15 minutes. He has a spare key given to him by Abby ‘in case of emergencies’ and he’s debating whether to use it or ring the doorbell when he leans against the door. It opens, not even locked. For fuck’s sake, did these girls have no sense of self-preservation?

The house itself is a mess. Empty alcohol bottles are littered everywhere, there’s a faint smell of cigarette smoke and weed and he is pretty sure there’s a pile of vomit somewhere not too far away. Jesus Christ. Messy high school parties were something he didn’t really have a lot of experience with, having spent most of his time at this age looking after O and Clarke so he didn’t know where this was on the scale of okay to extreme but one thing was certain, if Abby came home to this she would freak out. 

The house is suspiciously quiet, so either the girls have gone out somewhere or, more likely, they’re passed out, hopefully in a bed.

He stands at the bottom of the stairs and yells, probably louder than necessary, “Anyone alive up there?”

It’s silent for a few moments before he hears a muffled “Shit!” and the sound of at least one person moving around upstairs.

“You have thirty seconds to get down these stairs or I’m coming up to find you.” He shouts again.

Octavia comes down first, duvet wrapped around her and definitely looking worse for wear. Serves her right.

“What are you doing here Bell?” She asks, glaring at him like he’s the one in the wrong.

“If you want to throw a party without me finding out then maybe don’t let people tag you in pictures on Facebook,” He retorts, shooting a glare that matched his sisters in intensity, “Where’s Clarke? She’s not escaping this lecture, although I was hoping you’d be a bit older before I had to give it to you.”

“Clarke’s still asleep, I think.” Octavia says a little too quickly to be being honest. He just raises an eyebrow at her, and as if the universe is on his side for once, the sound of someone dropping something in her room is followed by a loud swear word, but it wasn’t a girl’s voice doing the swearing.

Bellamy opens his mouth to ask a question but Octavia just shakes her head, cutting him off muttering something about people being complete imbeciles as she pushes her way past Bellamy and throws herself onto the couch.

That’s when Bellamy remembers the pictures of Clarke and that Finn boy. He shouts again, “Clarke, and Clarke’s friend, I want you down these stairs in two minutes.” He knows he sounds like an angry parent but he doesn’t know how else to approach this. He was really too young to be parenting teenagers.

He hears Clarke’s door open about thirty seconds later, and she descends the stairs followed by Finn. They both at least have the decency to look sheepish. “Bellamy, this is Finn, Finn, this is Bellamy, Octavia’s brother.” Clarke introduces as they get to the bottom of the stairs, both of the teens refusing to make eye contact with him.

“Hi.” Finn says, with an awkward little wave that leaves Bellamy fighting not to roll his eyes at the boy.

“Hi.” Bellamy replies, scowl still plastered on his face and glare now directed solely at Finn, almost like a silent challenge to discover what his next move would be.

“I should, um, be heading home.” Finn clearly can’t get out of the house fast enough. At least he knows how to read a room.

“Yeah, you probably should.” Bellamy agrees, voice still anything but friendly. He watches as Clarke and Finn say an awkward goodbye at the door, which consisted of a quick kiss on the cheek and a ‘see you at a school’. If he didn’t have such a good idea about what the two were doing last night it might have been funny.

As soon as the door shuts Clarke sits down next to Octavia on the couch, curling up with her under the duvet and still refusing to meet Bellamy’s gaze. They both looked exhausted. The tiniest part of him felt bad and wanted to let them sleep, but a lot more of him was pissed off and these girls were going to know it.

He stood in front of the couch, arms crossed in the most disciplinary pose he could think of and said, “Explain.”

Octavia and Clarke looked at each other, but didn’t say a word.

“I’m waiting.” He doesn’t think he’s ever felt more like an angry parent than he does at this point.

It’s Octavia that talks first, “What’s there to explain? We had a party for Clarke’s birthday. The end.”

Bellamy rolls his eyes, “A party with alcohol. You’re both sixteen years old! It’s illegal and you know it! Look at your house, Clarke. When your mums away I’m supposed to be looking after you and if your mum finds out about this you won’t be the only one in trouble!” None of them mention the fact that he looks after her when her mum is here too.

“Well sorry we wanted to have fun, Bell.” Octavia mumbles.

“It’s not about you having fun, O, it’s about you being safe, and a party with a bunch of drunk high-schoolers is not safe!” Bellamy retorts, the volume of his voice beginning to rise in volume.

“Well nothing bad happened, we’re fine Bell!” Octavia argues back just as loudly, but seemingly regretting her choice in volume when she’s finished judging by the way she winces and rubs her forehead.

“But something could have happened O! Something could have happened and I would have had no idea because I had no idea what either of you were doing! How do you think that makes me feel? I thought I could trust you two, I thought you trusted me but apparently not!” He takes a breath, feeling his emotions begin to get the better of him, “Look, yes I’m angry that you had a party and I’m annoyed that you got drunk, but I’m also disappointed because I thought you had more respect for me than to lie to me like that. You know all I want to do is keep you both safe, and there’s no way I can do that if you’re not being honest with me.”

Both girls are looking a bit guilty now, and even though she’s kept very quiet so far, Clarke speaks next, “We’re sorry Bell, I swear. We didn’t think about it like that it just…seemed like a fun idea. It wasn’t supposed to get this crazy.”

Octavia nods in agreement, “Yeah, I’m sorry Bell.”

“Good. Apology accepted,” Bellamy states, letting a smile on to his face for what felt like the first time that morning, “and now you get to do the fun part and tidy the house up.”

They both groan, Octavia definitely being more dramatic than Clarke as she pulls herself off the sofa and towards the kitchen, saying she needed some kind of food before she could do anything and dragging herself and duvet to the kitchen to find some. Clarke goes to follow her but Bellamy knows there’s a little bit more parenting he needs to do before he can let her go, and he’s not looking forward to it.

“Clarke,” He says quietly, so Octavia definitely won’t hear. He doesn’t want to embarrass her anymore than he’s about to.

“Yeah, Bell?” He can tell by her face that she has no idea what he’s about to ask.

“I just need to check, to ask,” He’s fumbling over the words, not quite sure the easiest way to put it, “You and Finn, did you, were you, you know, safe?” 

She doesn’t respond for a moment, her face morphing into a mixture of disgusted and embarrassed as she processes his words, “Are you serious?”

“Well, yeah. I want to be asking this a lot less than you want to be hearing it, trust me. But it’s kind of important because if you didn’t there are things you need to do to make sure that you don’t have an std or get pregnant and-“

“Jesus, Bellamy! Yes, we were safe, I’m not stupid!” Clarke groans, walking away from him.

“I’m just doing my job and being a responsible guardian!” He calls after her teasingly, getting a middle finger in response.

Abby comes home two days later and never finds out about the party, thank god, but things do change a bit in the following weeks. The main one is that Clarke is round the Blake’s a lot less, and that’s because she’s now spending a lot of time with Finn. He doesn’t necessarily like the fact that she’s spending so much time alone with this boy, but he also knows that there’s absolutely nothing he can do to change it. He has no right to want to change it. She isn’t his little sister that he has a legal responsibility for, she’s just a young girl that he’s known for a long time and is allowed to make her own decisions. He really doesn’t have to like them though.

He has to admit though that she does seem to be happier. The angry cloud that had been following her around since her dad died seemed to be lifting slightly. She smiles more, real smiling rather than the forced ones she’d put on when she thought it was what he wanted to see, and as wary as he was about Finn, he seems to be good for her.

He really should have trusted his original instincts.

Clarke and Finn had been together for around three months when Octavia stalks into his bedroom one evening, on the phone and with a face like thunder. Bellamy is confused, but that immediately turns to worry when he hears the conversation Octavia is having.

“Clarke, slow down, breathe, okay? What’s going on?” Octavia’s eyes scan the room as she speaks, landing on his car keys. He understands what she’s saying and grabs them quickly, following her out of the house and to the car.

“Look, Clarke, me and Bell are on the way now, we’ll be like ten minutes.”

The phone call ends after that, and Bellamy doesn’t have to ask for Octavia to explain.

“She’s a mess, Bell. She wasn’t making any sense but it was something about Finn.” Octavia says, spitting out Finn’s name through gritted teeth.

Bellamy’s mind immediately jumps to all the awful things Finn could have done to her. He could have hurt her, made her do something she didn’t want to or she could be pregnant; there were countless ideas racing through his mind and by the time they got to Clarke’s house his knuckles were white with how tightly he’d been gripping the steering wheel.

Clarke opens the door almost as soon as they’re out the car and Bellamy rakes his eyes over her. She’s not crying anymore, but her face is red and blotchy and her eyes are swollen so it’s obvious she has been. Thankfully he can’t see any bruises, so Finn probably hasn’t physically hurt her, but he still has no idea what exactly it is he’s done and judging by how upset Clarke seems, it must be bad.

Clarke doesn’t say anything when they walk into the house, ignoring Octavia’s offer of a hug in favour of storming into the front room and shoving her laptop at them. It’s open on a conversation with someone called Raven Reyes.

RavenReyes1: Look, Finn’s asked me not to do this but I’m tired of you pretty much stalking him. I know he’s being nice to you but that’s just because he feels bad for you. Get the message that he’s not interested and leave him alone! It’s pretty pathetic you following him everywhere to be honest, get a grip and some respect for yourself!  
CGriffin7: What the fuck is this? Who are you?  
RavenReyes1: I’m his Girlfriend, have been for the past two years so stop trying to make something happen that won’t.  
CGriffin7: I’m sorry but I’m confused. Me and Finn have been dating for almost three months now. He mentioned an ex from his old school, is that you?  
RavenReyes1: Not an ex. We never broke up. Fucking scumbag.

Clarke hadn’t replied to that message.

“Shit, Clarke, I’m so sorry.” Octavia says, shaking her head as she reads through the short conversation.

“I didn’t want to believe it, but I looked at her profile and there’s pictures of him everywhere and then he started calling and texting saying he could explain and,” Clarke takes a deep breath, trying to control the emotions that are very clearly running away with her, “I don’t know. I actually thought he liked me and that something was good for once but, apparently not.”

Tears are welling up in Clarke’s eyes and Bellamy wants to do something to make her feel better but Octavia beats him to it, wrapping Clarke up in a fierce hug and telling her, “you deserve so much better than that dickhead. Fuck him.”

Bellamy isn’t sure what to say, frustrated at once again finding himself in a situation which has no obvious method to help Clarke. All she was doing was trying to move on with her life but something had dragged her down and once again none of it was her fault. It wasn’t fair. Clarke had just about stopped crying when there was a knock on the door, followed by a new notification on her phone a couple of moments later. Of course, it was Finn. Begging for a chance to speak to her.

Bellamy is already halfway to the door when Clarke speaks, “Let me, Bell. I really feel like yelling at him in person.”

“You sure?” She sounds sure, but he wants to double check.  
“Definitely.” She says through gritted teeth, storming past him and flinging the front door open. It’s obvious she’s been crying but she also now looks furious. He wouldn’t want to be in Finn’s shoes. 

“Why are you here?” Clarke’s words are bitter, and Bellamy is sure she is glaring at Finn with a death stare he knows all too well and, if he was smart, he would leave as soon as he could. Finn clearly wasn’t very smart though.

“Clarke, I am so sorry. Please let me explain. I promise I was going to break up with Raven, I just didn’t know how! It’s you I want, not her.” Did Finn really not know how stupid he sounded? A quick exchange of a look with Octavia confirmed that she also knew he was talking out of his arse.

“You literally told her I was stalking you, Finn,” Clarke deadpanned, “and if you really wanted me then you wouldn’t have forgot to mention that you had another girlfriend! Whatever we had is over, and nothing you can say will change anything.”

“Clarke, please I-“

“No, Finn. This is done. Understand?” Clarke challenged him, voice beginning to rise in volume and pitch.

“You really don’t want to try and work through this?” Finn actually sounds surprised at that, like he was expecting to speak to Clarke and have her falling into his arms after giving some awful apology.

Clarke laughs, sounding slightly psychotic and bordering on hysterical, “No! There isn’t anything to work through! You made sure of that.”

Something seems to flip in Finn then, when he finally understood Clarke wouldn’t be taking him back. “You know what, fine. But good luck finding anyone else that wants you,” Finn’s sneering now, and adds the next statement on like it was an afterthought, “I was only with you because you were easy anyway.”

Bellamy had no problem listening to Clarke have a go at Finn, but he wasn’t about to sit here and let him say shit like that to her. “That is enough,” He growled, storming towards the door and knowing from the sudden shock on Finn’s face that he had no idea that Clarke wasn’t alone in the house, “You need to leave, now, and I swear if I ever hear you’ve said anything like that again, or actually even gone anywhere near Clarke, you’ll regret it.”

Bellamy’s never really done the whole threatening thing before, he hasn’t had to and whilst he doesn’t think he could ever actually hurt anyone, let alone an admittedly idiotic but still teenage boy, it wouldn’t do any harm to have Finn think that he’d have someone come after him if he tried anything else with Clarke. It works, and Finn all but runs away from Clarke’s house. He may not be able to make Clarke happy right now, but he can make sure that Finn doesn’t bother her anymore.

“Thanks.” Clarke says from beside him, but her voice doesn’t sound strong like it had moments ago when she’d yelled at Finn. Instead she sounds tired, weaker.

“Those things he said Clarke, you do know he was just lashing out, right? They weren’t how he really felt.” Bellamy attempts to comfort her, pulling her into his chest.

“Yeah, yeah I know.” Clarke responds, but the way she says it doesn’t convince him at all.

Whatever walls Finn had been helping Clarke lower, they were back and double the height following the revelation of him cheating and his subsequent outburst. That first few weeks afterwards are especially rough. Clarke is a mess, there’s no other way to put it and she’s not even attempting to convince anyone otherwise. It isn’t like after Jake died and she was flying off the handle at everything and being angry, now she’s just sad. She doesn’t want to go anywhere or do anything other than sleep and eat, she doesn’t even want to paint. It’s hard enough to get her over to the house with him and O sometimes, and he knows his little sister is just as worried about Clarke as he is.

That’s why when Clarke suggests that she and Octavia have a girly weekend at her house, he actively supports it, hoping that it’s a sign that Clarke is finally moving on. 

It’s another decision Bellamy regrets.

He was woken up by his phone ringing at sometime past midnight. He was confused, tired and slightly pissed off seeing Octavia’s name as the caller.

“What is it, O?” He answered the phone groggily.

“Look, Bell, please don’t be mad.” He could hardly hear her, there was a lot of noise in the background of the call. It certainly didn’t sound like a girly weekend at Clarke’s and he was definitely feeling more awake now.

“What’s going on, O? Where are you?” He can hear the urgency in his own voice, but is also pretty sure that he already knows the answer Octavia is going to give him.

“In my defence, Clarke actually seemed really excited and you said we needed to get her out more so technically you can’t be mad and-“

“Octavia.” He interrupts her rambling in a tone that she knows means he’s being serious.

“We’re at a party,” of course they were, even after last time. These girls would send him to an early grave, “Look, I know I lied about where I was and I’m sorry, but I need help!” Bellamy was already rolling out of bed and pulling on the closest clothes he could find.

“Help with what?” His heart had sunk at those words. Clarke and Octavia sneaking out to a party was one thing but if something bad actually happened to them, he didn’t even want to think about it.

“It’s Clarke. She’s really, really drunk and she says she doesn’t want to leave but there’s this guy that’s been following her around half the night and-“

Bellamy could hear the panic rising in his sister’s voice so he cut her off, “You’re okay O, you did the right thing calling. I’m pretty much heading out the door right now. Text me the address and then see if you can get Clarke out the front, say you’re just going to get some air or something. If you can’t get her out it’s fine, just stay with her and I’ll come in and find you, okay?”

“Yeah, thanks. I love you Bell.”

“I love you too. Stay Safe.”

Bellamy was at the address Octavia had sent him within fifteen minutes, standing outside his car and observing his surroundings. From the outside it looked a mess, and he didn’t even want to think what the inside would look like. Thankfully he didn’t need to as he caught sight of Octavia pretty much dragging Clarke out the house, with the help of a boy and girl he didn’t recognise. They definitely looked older than sixteen, but still not old enough to be drinking.

Octavia seemed okay, she was steady enough on her feet and thank god she was because Clarke was falling all over the place. Her outfit was also…interesting. And by interesting he meant it consisted of a too-short skirt, a top which was pretty much a glorified bra and heels that he wasn’t sure she would have been able to walk in sober. There was no way Abby had let her out the house like that, which meant she, unsurprisingly, also had no idea what the girls had been up to.

He made eye contact with Octavia, who smiled at him gratefully as he started walking towards her, giving her a quick hug before replacing the boy holding Clarke’s other arm. “This is Harper and Monty; they’ve been very helpful tonight.” Octavia spoke and Bellamy nodded his thanks.

“It’s no problem,” the girl, Harper, replied with a smile on her face, “it’s been a good night, it’s just a shame someone got a bit too drunk.” 

“I am not too drunk!” Clarke decided to pipe up, trying to turn to face the girl but coming face to face with Bellamy instead. He couldn’t help but laugh at the surprised look on her face. She was wasted. “Oh, Bell! I didn’t know you were coming! Let’s get you a drink!”

Bellamy just rolled his eyes, “I’m just here to take you two home, Princess. No partying for me. Now come on, the car is literally thirty seconds away.”

“Thanks again guys!” Octavia said, waving at the new acquaintances.

“Text me when your home,” Monty spoke this time, “maybe we’ll see you on campus sometime!”

“Yeah, maybe!” Octavia spoke quickly, turning her face so she was only looking at the car as she pulled Clarke towards it.

“Campus?” The word came out of Bellamy’s mouth slowly, like he was trying to understand what it meant, “O, is this a college party?”

Octavia didn’t respond straight away, but he knew that she could feel the glare he was directing at the side of her head and it wouldn’t take long for her to crack.

“Maybe.” She finally responded, refusing to look at him and instead pretending to be too focused on keeping Clarke standing to pay him any attention.

“And you told them you were college students?” He probed, still glaring at her whilst she looked anywhere else.

“Possibly.” She finally answered, opening the car door and pretty much shoving Clarke on to the back seat.

“You are so grounded.” He grumbled, making sure Clarke’s seat belt was on before he slid into the driver’s seat and began the trip back home.

It was a minor miracle that Clarke didn’t throw up until they were back at the house. They’d managed to get her upstairs, into a pair of O’s pyjamas and almost into bed before she started complaining of feeling sick. Octavia herself was exhausted, Bellamy could tell, so, he did possibly the nicest thing he’d ever done as a big brother and let her go to sleep whilst he dealt with Clarke, who was currently throwing up in the toilet whilst he crouched next to her and held her hair out the way of her vomit. They so owed him after tonight.

By the time Clarke had finished throwing her guts up Bellamy didn’t particularly want to wake Octavia, so he made the decision that she could sleep in his bed tonight. There was a bucket next to the bed, which he really hoped she wouldn’t need, and she was lying in bed, clearly ready to pass out. He wanted to talk to her first though. He couldn’t help but feel like there had to be more to this than just normal teenage rebellion. Even when things were going really badly for her, Clarke didn’t generally take risks, and this had been a massive one. He had to ask her, to try and gage where her head was at, and he honestly thought it might be easier to get some answers from her when she was drunk since it was close to impossible to get them when she was sober.

He placed a glass of water on the bedside table and sat down next to her, “What were you even thinking, getting this drunk?”

Clarke just shrugged, laughing at something on her phone. He took it out of her hands, ignoring her protests.

“I’m serious Clarke. You went to a party full of college students you don’t even know, and I’m not trying to insult you here but your outfit was minimal at best and you got so smashed that you had no clue what was going on. Anything could have happened!” Bellamy scolded.

“Maybe that’s what I wanted.” Her voice was slurred and Bellamy could tell she was half asleep but that sentence set alarm bells ringing in his brain. He grabbed her shoulders, pulling her up so that she was sitting up and facing him, even though her eyes were still half shut.

“Look at me Clarke, open your eyes and look at me,” Bellamy’s voice was low, serious, and to her credit Clarke did drag her eyes open, although she was definitely struggling to focus on him. “That is not what you want. I don’t know why you would think it is, but it isn’t. You’re too young for that, you’re better than that. You would have just ended up getting hurt Clarke, you know that, right?”

“I just-I just wanted someone to want me,” tears began to rise up in her clear blue eyes as she carried on, “Why aren’t I good enough for anyone Bell? I don’t know what else I can do to get anyone to want me!”

Bellamy felt his heart shatter. He hadn’t wanted her to cry, but he had known that there was something more to this. This was Clarke. The privileged princess his little sister and dragged home when they were five years old and now? The only word Bellamy could think of to describe her was lost. Lost and drunk and lonely and hurting and he hated that this had happened to her and he hadn’t been able to stop it.

“Clarke. You are enough.”

“No, I’m not.” Clarke choked out through a sob. It was the most lucid she’d sounded since Bellamy had picked her up from that goddamned party. “I’ve never been good enough for my mum, I’m not even enough for fucking Finn Collins! I really thought he liked me, I thought that I was finally enough for someone but-“

She really broke down then. Letting out ugly, heart-wrenching sobs and all Bellamy could do was pull her into his chest, one arm wrapped around her heaving shoulders and the other softly combing through her hair in the way that he knew usually calmed her. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know what he could say to make this better. He settled on whispers and promises of ‘I’ve got you Clarke’ and ‘It’s okay’ and ‘You’re okay’ and ‘You are enough’. He was angry. Angry at Abby for never giving Clarke the affection and love she needed and angry at goddamn Finn Collins for thinking he could treat Clarke like dirt and he was angry at himself for not being able to make this better even though he knew how much she was struggling. 

They sat like that on his bed until Clarke fell asleep, head pressed into his chest. He probably held her for longer than he was supposed to, he just didn’t know how to let go of her. He wanted to able to stay here and hold her together forever but he knew he couldn’t, knew that tomorrow she’d wake up with an awful hangover, might not even be able to remember the heart-breaking things she’d told him and probably wouldn’t try and talk to him about them if she did.

He was right, Clarke woke up the next morning feeling like shit, thanked him for heling her out and apologised for stealing his bed but other than that she didn’t say anything and completely shut him down when he tried to bring up any of her reasons for going out like she did. He thinks she remembers though, because she seems to be making a lot more of an effort to spend time at the house and actually be happy being there, or at least making them think she is. She’s definitely smiling more but Bellamy still can’t work out how genuine it is.

Over the following months things with Clarke become almost cyclical. She’s almost normal for a while, whether that’s weeks or months, but she goes to school and spends most of her free time at the Blake’s and she paints and has fun and things are like they used to be but then, usually without warning, everything changes. Sometimes she’ll refuse to leave her bed for days and Abby doesn’t even realise, but other times she’ll permanently be on the move; going to parties and making plans and being worryingly unpredictable. It’s almost like she’s multiple different people and it’s hard for both him and O to never be able to know which Clarke it is they’ll be seeing from day to day, but he knows it must be even harder for her to be living like that. She refuses to let him help though, he bought up the word therapist once and she refused to talk to him for almost three weeks.

Throughout all of this she’s somehow managing to maintain extremely good school grades, but he thinks that might be more to do with wanting to keep Abby out of her business rather than her actually caring about them – there has been one thing and one thing only over the years that is sure to get Abby’s attention on Clarke and that is a drop in her grades. As long as Clarke is doing well in school and is still on track to get into a top college, Abby really doesn’t seem to care about anything else.

Clarke begins coming around smelling suspiciously like weed, and Octavia informs him that Clarke has begun to hang out with a new group of friends who are very big on partying and smoking and whilst they’re nice enough people, Octavia really isn’t interested. He hugs her when she says that, thanking whatever higher power there was that at least one of the girls was not giving him any additional reasons to worry. If you’d asked five years ago who out of Clarke and Octavia was more likely to be completely unpredictable and be keeping him up half the night worrying about what bad life decision they would be making next, the roles definitely would have been reversed.

He does try and talk to her. It’s become routine that literally every day he asks how she is and if she wants to talk about anything, and every day she always deflects. If he tries to push her at all he just gets shut down and ignored and he’d rather be worried but know what she was doing with her time than be worried and having no idea where she was and what she was doing. It’s not much of a compromise but he’ll take it. The thing is he really does think she’s trying, if she really wanted, she could cut him out her life and make things a lot easier for herself to do whatever she wanted, but she doesn’t and that reassures him that there’s still things he can do for her.

It’s when she starts going out with her new friends that the hook ups start. She doesn’t tell him about them obviously, but he hears her giggling about it with Octavia and she’s always mentioning new people once or twice then never again. He tries not to think about it too much, tries to ignore the clenching in his stomach when he thinks of her being touched by someone that she barely knows but it’s hard. He knows hook up culture is a part of growing up but it seems like she’s taking it to an extreme, like she seems to do with most things these days. He still can’t help but think about how different she is to the girl she was before she lost her dad and retrace his actions to see whether there was anything he could have done differently, anything he could have done to make her happy now because one thing is certain; however much Clarke tries to pretend she’s okay, it’s getting harder and harder to believe it.

Things explode just after Clarke’s seventeenth birthday. Things have been relatively calm for a couple of months now, Clarke isn’t going out as much and she doesn’t stink of weed all the time and Bellamy has dared to hope that things have taken a turn for the better. He’s left the house for about ten minutes to go and grab some dinner from the store, but he walks back into a warzone. 

Octavia and Clarke are standing in the hallway, the former looking furious and the latter in tears.

“I’m so sorry, O. It was a mistake, I swear. I was drunk and I wasn’t thinking and I don’t know why I did it. I’m sorry.“ Clarke’s apologising through her tears and Bellamy knows already that this isn’t going to have a good ending.

“I don’t care! You know how much I like him and you still did it!” Octavia screams back, before turning to face Bellamy, who was standing frozen in the doorway, “She got with Atom.”

Fuck. Octavia had been hung up on Atom for months, and they were finally getting somewhere. He couldn’t say he was all that keen on his little sister getting a boyfriend but Atom had seemed like a good enough guy and they’d been on a couple of dates so far, although they still weren’t anything official.

“I’m sorry,” Clarke repeated, wiping her eyes, “Please O, I swear, I’ll make it up to you I promise. I won’t do anything like it ever again, please forgive me.”

Octavia laughed, and Bellamy knew that Clarke wouldn’t be getting any forgiveness today, “You’d love that wouldn’t you? You cry and I forgive you because that’s what I, what we, do whenever you fuck up. Poor little Clarke is so messed up so we’ll just keep making excuses for her, well not this time.”

“O,” Bellamy states in a low voice, “That’s enough.”

“No, it’s not Bell!” Octavia flies round to face him before turning her attention back to Clarke, a slightly malicious glint now present in her eyes, “We’ve spent so long tiptoeing around her because we’re worried about what fucked up thing she’s going to do next, but I’m tired of it! You love the attention, don’t you? You love that all you have to do is say a word and we’re all over you but not anymore, you’ve ruined that for yourself now. Have fun drinking yourself to death and fucking people whose names you can’t remember, because however much you like to pretend it’s funny, we both know it’s fucked up and I won’t be here to pick up the pieces next time.”

“Octavia,” Bellamy’s voice is louder now, stronger and he speaks in a tone that leaves no room for argument, “Stop. I know you’re upset but that’s out of order. Go get some space and cool off.”

Octavia doesn’t say anything, just turns and storms upstairs, slamming her bedroom door in a way that’s reminiscent of the tantrums she threw as a child. 

He turns his attention to Clarke and she looks…defeated. She’s leaning against the wall, trying to breathe evenly but failing and there are tears streaming down her face. He knows she’s the one in the wrong but the things Octavia said were awful and he doesn’t know what to do. One thing he’s never had to worry about or deal with is the girls fighting, it has never really happened before, definitely not on this scale and he has no clue how to deal with it. She notices him looking at her, and her entire demeanour changes. She stands up straight, wipes the tears away and says in a shaky voice, “It’s okay, I’ll go, I’m going.”

She won’t look at him, just pushes past him to go and grab her bag from where it was dropped by the door. “No, Clarke, just wait a moment, we can sort something.” He tries, mind racing with any possible solutions.

Clarke shakes her head, “No, it’s fine Bellamy. I fucked up and I have to deal with it. It’s okay, I deserve it.”

She’s right, about having to go home, but whatever she did she doesn’t deserve what Octavia said. “What Octavia said, she didn’t mean it she’s just upset. Look, let me go and talk to her for a moment and then I can at least give you a lift home.”

“I want to walk Bellamy. I’ll let you know when I’m home.” She insists and then she’s out the door and Bellamy is left standing in the hallway with absolutely no idea how to make things better. Obviously, Clarke is in the wrong. She shouldn’t have done whatever she did with Atom and they all knew it but he also really didn’t like how vindictive Octavia had been. She should know better than to use someone’s personal issues against them in an argument, especially Clarke’s. He looked between the stairs Octavia had stormed up and the door Clarke had quietly slipped out of and all he wanted to do was be able to make sure they were both okay but right now he couldn’t. He had to choose, and Clarke clearly didn’t want to talk right now so it made sense to sort out Octavia first. If everything went well, he could talk her down and then he could pop over to make sure Clarke was okay and in a couple of days the two of them could talk things out and then they’d be giggling together like nothing had happened.

Things didn’t go well.

Octavia didn’t calm down. In fact, she seemed to get angrier as time passed. Even the mention of Clarke’s name would set her off. Clarke herself had pretty much dropped off the face of the earth. Well, he knew she was still going to school because Octavia would complain whenever she had to be in the same vicinity as her, but other than that the only contact he’d had with her was a daily message to confirm that she was alive, and the only reason she’d agreed to that was so that he wouldn’t actually show up at her house. 

When the fight hadn’t blown over in the first couple of days, he was sure it would be sorted in the next few weeks, but it had now been almost three months. School has ended for the summer, and Octavia has spent half of the summer break wither new friends and the other half moping about the house. He doesn’t say anything to her but he knows she misses Clarke. This is possibly the first summer break since they were about seven that they haven’t spent almost entirely together, and they were both starting their final year of school soon. He was sure Clarke was missing Octavia too, but he also had no way of knowing for sure. He hadn’t realised how much reassurance he had been taking from the fact that Clarke was still going into school every day, and now that wasn’t happening, he was spending more and more time wondering how she was spending her holiday. It wasn’t helped by the fact that she hadn’t text him in a few days, and he was beginning to get antsy, horror stories of things that could be wrong beginning to trickle through his mind. 

He holds out for four days, mind jumping from ideas of Clarke just wanting space to her lying dead in her bedroom or being held captive by a serial killer before he finally gives in and drives over to her house. He still has the key but he doesn’t let himself in, it doesn’t feel right after not seeing her for literal months. He’s almost surprised that she actually opens the door, and he can tell by the look on her face that she wasn’t expecting to see him standing there. He takes a moment to take in her appearance. She’s cut her hair, and she looks like she might have lost a bit of weight but other than that she seems okay.

“Bellamy. Hi.”

It’s awkward, too awkward for people that have known each other as long as they have and Bellamy’s not letting it stay that way anymore. He smiles, plastering on a confidence that he’s not feeling deep down and steps inside. “Hi, you weren’t answering your messages and I figured I’d given you enough space so I decided it was time to visit.”

Clarke smiles back at him, but it’s definitely fake, “Oh, yeah, sorry. My phone broke, I’ve ordered a new one. I was just waiting for it to arrive actually, I thought you’d be the delivery man.”

The conversation is bad. Full of small talk and fake laughs and too-long silences but he powers through, pretending he doesn’t notice the general disarray of the house and the empty alcohol bottles piled up by the bin. Abby must be away again. 

Clarke ends the talk, saying that she was going out later and needed to get ready. He makes her promise to message him as soon as she has her new phone, tells her that he’ll come see her again next week and spends the drive home thinking of ways that he can get the two girls together to talk about what happened. Clarke had asked about Octavia, and it was so obvious they missed each other, he just needed a plan.

As it turns out, he didn’t need a plan and the universe was actually on his side for once. Clarke and Octavia went to the same party that night, and although he doesn’t get told exactly what happened, he knows that they talked and that things might finally be moving forward. He notices them liking each other’s posts on social media and sees Clarke’s name popping up more regularly in in O’s phone notifications so he isn’t too surprised when he comes home from work a few weeks later to find the girls curled up on the couch watching Netflix together like they’d never been apart.

Things don’t exactly go back to how they were before the fight. Octavia and Clarke both have secure places in other friendship groups now, and whilst they have finally returned to their once impenetrable best friend status, the fact that they both have other people that they’re also close to is refreshing. It would be more refreshing if Clarke’s friends didn’t love alcohol and weed so much, but he thinks it’s good for both of them to have more than just each other to rely on if they needed it.

The girls start their final year of high school and everything is calm for once, they’re concentrating on school work, not fighting and Bellamy is finally letting himself relax and not worry about them having another earth-shattering argument. Octavia’s at a sleepover with her new friend group and Clarke is at a party somewhere so Bellamy has spent his night binge watching some new show on Netflix when his phone rings. It’s Clarke, asking him to pick her up. He agrees, of course. She’s not upset, she actually sounds pretty happy and Bellamy’s not sure why but something feels off. He tries to push the feeling away as he drives, hoping that he’s wrong and just being over-cautious.

Unfortunately, he was right.

Bellamy knew Clarke was on something as soon as he saw her. He had hoped she was just drunk when she called, but the size of her pupils and the regular rotating of her jaw told him everything he needed to know. 

“Bell!” She rushed up to him when she saw him, an enormous smile on her face that he did not reciprocate, “Thank you for picking me up! I was supposed to be staying at Lexa’s but her and Niylah were like, all over each other and I really didn’t want to interrupt so I figured I should call you because-“

“Clarke, what have you taken? And how much?” Bellamy’s voice was harsh, perhaps harsher than he’d intended as he watched Clarke visibly recoil at his words. She wasn’t fazed for long though.

“Why does it matter?” She responded with a shrug of her shoulders, jaw ticking regularly as she tried to meet his stare.

“Because I need to know whether I should get you to a hospital or not. Come on, the cars parked around the corner.” He said seriously, beginning to walk in the direction he’d just come from.

“Jesus Bellamy I’m fine! I only had half a pill I’m not stupid!” Clarke scoffs, following him. Bellamy didn’t miss the stumble in her step as she rushed to catch up to him.

“You sure about that?” He bit back. Clarke rolled her eyes but said nothing. Bellamy noticed the way she wrapped her arms around her body, and glanced at her outfit. Just a short dress, no jacket. “Are you cold?”

“No.”

They walked for a couple more minutes, and as they approached the car Bellamy let out a sigh. “Look, Clarke, I’m not judging the choices that you’re making-“

She let out a snort at that.

“No. I’m not judging I just…worry.” He grabbed his car keys and unlocked the doors.

“Well, you don’t need to. I’m fine.” Clarke said before clambering into the car. 

“Well someone has to.” He muttered under his breath before opening his own door. Clarke didn’t need to hear that. Didn’t need to hear anything that would back up her ideas that her mother didn’t care. However true it might be. Bellamy had long passed wondering if Abby had any idea what Clarke was actually doing with her life. He knew she was away with work again and he doubted that she’d even spoken to Clarke in the last week. The last conversation between the two had been another argument, about college. Abby had pretty much told Clarke what colleges she would be applying to for pre-med and Clarke never took kindly to being told what to do.

They sat in silence for the first few minutes of the car journey, until Clarke put some music on. He thinks he recognised it as one of the bands she and Octavia would fawn over but he couldn’t specify which one. He watched her out of the corner of his eye, watched the content smile that formed on her face as she stared at the passing streetlights outside the car.

Clarke was the one to break the silence, that same small smile on her face and earlier tension between the two of them apparently forgotten, “I didn’t know it could be like this.” Her voice was soft, almost happy.

“Didn’t know what could be like what?” Bellamy replied, his voice just as soft. He wasn’t angry, not really, just scared that one day she would go too far.

“That life could be this good. That I could be this happy.” She let out a giggle after that, but it didn’t meet her eyes.

“You know it’s not real, princess,” Bellamy sighed, “It’s just chemicals.”

“I don’t care,” Clarke’s response was quick, “I feel better than I think I’ve ever felt. Especially in there. I felt like I was flying, like I was on top of the world, like there’s nothing that could bring me down.”

“It’s not real.” Bellamy simply repeated, he didn’t know what else he could say, he knows it probably wouldn’t change anything anyway.

“It feels real. I like it. I feel more real than I usually do.” Clarke was still smiling, but her words sounded sad.

Bellamy pushed a small burst of air out his nose, almost like a snort but definitely not that loud, “You won’t tomorrow princess. You’re going to have a horrific comedown; you’ll feel like shit.”

“I’ll take it to feel like this. I’m down all the time anyway, it can’t be that much worse than normal.” It was a throwaway comment but one that caused a sick feeling in Bellamy’s stomach. Hearing Clarke acknowledge that everything wasn’t okay was still such a rare occurrence, he never knew exactly how to react to it, could never be certain if pushing her to talk about her feelings would make her feel better or worse.

He ends up leaving it for now, doesn’t want to risk upsetting her, not when she’s told him how happy she is right now. That’s his issue with Clarke, he thinks, all he wants is for her to be happy, for her to be safe and he can’t think of much he wouldn’t do to make that happen.

He was right about Clarke’s comedown. She is awful to be around for the next couple of days, spending the majority of them in Octavia’s bed watching whatever shitty TV show she can pay attention to. He doesn’t talk to her about it though, he knows that if she wants to do it again, she will and if she doesn’t, she doesn’t. Absolutely nothing he says will change that so he doesn’t even try.

Abby gets her way with college applications, and Clarke’s soon getting acceptances for top colleges all over the US. He’s honestly not sure how she managed to keep on top of her schoolwork with everything that’s been going on but she has, and it’s impressive. Octavia doesn’t want to go to college, but she does look into apprenticeships in different cities and for the first time Bellamy realises that by this time next year they would both likely be gone and he would be alone with no one to look after for the first time since he was a teenager. It sends him into a bit of a tailspin, panicking about what he would actually do with his spare time and trying to work out if any scenarios would stop either of them leaving. He spends so much time doing that he almost doesn’t realise that the girls have both been acting strangely the past few days. He does though, he always does and he selfishly wonders if one of them could have changed their mind and be worried about telling him they wouldn’t be leaving next year.

He really wishes he hadn’t thought that when he finds the empty pregnancy test box in the bin. He’s taking the bins out and the bag splits and it’s just there, staring at him as much as an inanimate object can. He’s pretty sure he feels his heart stop beating for a moment. Had the universe really answered his prayers to have at least one of the girls stay next year by getting one of them pregnant? Cause of it had then it was a seriously shitty trade. As much as he had been worried about having no one to look after, a teenager and a baby would definitely be pushing it right now, even for him. He tries to think logically about things. The tests have to be Octavia’s or Clarke’s, that much is certain due to how sketchy they’ve been the past few days. Neither of them are in a relationship that he knows of, but Clarke has definitely been having sex for a while and for all he knew Octavia was as well. What if it was Octavia? He’d be an uncle, but how on earth could he afford to help her raise a child? He needed to know exactly what was going on, now. He knew his mind was running away from itself in panic, he just needed to breathe and talk to the girls.

They’re sitting on the couch, curled up under a blanket watching some mindless film. Neither of them particularly look like they’re in the midst of a major life event, perhaps that’s a good sign. He leans against the door frame, holding the box and clears his throat so that they know to look at him. They’re faces visibly drop when they see what he’s holding, they might even look scared and that wasn’t what he wanted, he thinks that he’d rather they hated him than ever be scared of him.

He begins to speak, his voice quiet and surprisingly stable considering the internal panic he is currently experiencing, “I’m not angry, okay? I just need to know what’s going on.”

The room is deathly silent for a moment. He’s staring at Octavia and Clarke who are looking uncomfortably at each other. The silence goes on too long and is getting uncomfortable.

It’s Clarke that breaks first. 

“It was mine,” she snaps as she stands up, snatching the box out of his hand, “and it was negative anyway, so everything is perfect.” 

She storms upstairs then, only pausing to throw the box back in the bin. The dominant emotion that Bellamy feels is relief. Relief that it wasn’t Octavia pregnant with a baby that he would have to be financially responsible for, and relief that Clarke isn’t actually pregnant, but the relief passes quickly and he thinks about Clarke and he’s worried again.

Octavia’s voice is quiet when she speaks, like she doesn’t want anyone to overhear even though they both know Clarke is safely shut away upstairs. “She’s been so scared, Bell. She’s had the test for days but was finding so many excuses not to do it. I thought she’d feel better, seeing that it was negative but she’s still so stressed.”

“She’s going to be for a while yet. You know that emotions don’t always just turn off. Go up to her, bitch about how annoying I am and I’ll go and get pizza for dinner.” Octavia nods and follows her friend up the stairs.

Clarke refused to come down for dinner but he knows her anger at him will pass soon. He knows she’s not really angry anyway, she’s also sad and embarrassed and stressed and confused and today that’s translated to her being angry at him but he can take it, because he understands that she doesn’t mean it.

He was exhausted. He’d worked overtime today and come home to a mini heart attack so it was really no surprise that he ended up falling asleep on the couch to the noise of a documentary about Ancient Rome. It was a surprise, however, when he woke up to the sound of the back door being slowly opened then shut. Bellamy had always been a light sleeper, it had been ingrained into him as part of his responsibility looking after Octavia and Clarke growing up, but he was confused as to who would be going into the garden in the middle of the night. If one of the girls was sneaking out, they’d use the front door surely.

He rolls off the sofa, blanket still wrapped around his shoulders, and glances out the window to see Clarke sitting on the steps in her pyjamas, lighting a cigarette. He watches her for a moment, he always figured that she’d smoked from the recognisable smell that started following her wherever she went, but he doesn’t think he’s ever actually seen her smoking before. She looks relaxed, at peace, and he figures that now is as good a time as any to find out if she’s still feeling angry.

“Those are bad for you, you know?” He says, a slight teasing tone to his voice so that she knows this won’t be a lecture as he follows her outside and sits on the step beside her.

She looks at him and rolls her eyes, giving him a half smile that lets him know he’s been forgiven but she doesn’t make a move to put the cigarette out. “Lots of things are bad for me.”

“How are you feeling, after, you know, everything that happened today?” Bellamy asks softly, knowing that there’s a large possibility she’ll ignore the question.

Clarke shrugs, “I don’t know. I was so scared. Even when the test was negative, I felt awful because I know I easily could have been pregnant, and I would have had no one else to blame but myself. Could you imagine if I actually was pregnant? It would have been just one more addition to a long list of Clarke’s fucked up mistakes.” Her tone is biting, and Bellamy can tell that even if she’s not angry at him anymore, she’s definitely angry at herself.

“We would have dealt with it, we always do,” he says honestly. She shivers, and he realises that her pyjamas consist of a tank top and shorts he’s pretty sure she’s owned since she was about fourteen. She’s definitely not fourteen anymore though. He doesn’t say anything, just pulls the blanket from his own shoulders and wraps it around her.

“Thanks,” Clarke murmurs, taking another drag from the cigarette before speaking again, “You’re stupid. You know that?”

“Why am I stupid?” Bellamy asks, slightly amused by the apparently sudden statement.

“Because you think that if I get pregnant, it’s something that you need to help sort out. You know it doesn’t have to be, I’m not your responsibility.” Clarke explains in a tone that makes it sound like what she’s saying is obvious.

Bellamy shakes his head in response, “You are my responsibility Clarke. I look after you Clarke, it’s what I do.”

“But you don’t have to,” Clarke repeats, clenching the hand that isn’t holding the cigarette. Bellamy notices, of course, and places his own hand on top of it, working his fingers in-between hers and pretty much forcing her to release the tension she was holding there. It doesn’t deter Clarke from carrying on though, “All I do is mess things up for you and O. Don’t deny it, just think about how much less stressful your life would be if I wasn’t here. All the shit you wouldn’t have to worry about. You deserve better than me.”

Bellamy frowns at that. He doesn’t like the idea of Clarke thinking he and O would be better off without her in any way. He thinks he might finally understand why Clarke spent three months away from him when she and O were fighting, and it was because she thought she was doing them a favour by staying away. “I don’t care about that, Clarke, I don’t care what my life would or could or might be like because I care about you, and nothing you do will ever change that.” He squeezes her hand in a way that he hopes is reassuring.

“What if I stole from you?” Clarke asks, voice deadly serious but with a humorous glint her eye.

“Wouldn’t matter.” Bellamy replied quickly, matching her tone of voice but not the amused expression on her face. He meant it.

“How about if I killed someone?” Clarke challenges, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Couldn’t care less.” Bellamy still spoke in that same, honest tone.

“What if,” she pauses to think for a moment, “What if I ruined every piece of history nerd memorabilia that you owned?” He can tell by her expression that she thinks she’s won, so he’ll let her have it. He thinks he’d let her have anything and everything she asked for.

“Now that might be pushing it.” He laughs.

She laughs too. A real laugh and it’s amazing to hear. It fades too quickly though.  
“I am sorry, you know?” Clarke’s voice is serious again.

“What for?” So is Bellamy’s.

“For being like this.” Clarke motions her cigarette holding hand towards her body as if that’s an explanation for what she’s said.

“You don’t have to be.” Bellamy keeps the serious, honest tone in his voice, and keeps holding her hand. He thinks this might be the longest, most serious conversation the two have ever had about Clarke’s mental state and he’s not planning on it ending just yet.

“What? Sorry or like this?” She says it in a way that could be taken as a joke, but he doesn’t take it as one

“Either,” he pauses, waiting for an indication that she wants him to shut up. It doesn’t happen so he continues, “You never have to be sorry for who you are, Clarke. If I honestly thought you were happy doing what you’re doing right now then I wouldn’t be trying to stop it, but I know you’re not happy and I know that you could be. It would be hard work but you could definitely feel better about yourself and see yourself like me and O do.”

“What, a drunken, messy slut? Because I hate to break it to you but I think I beat you to that one.” He hates that, hates hearing her talk about herself like that because she is so much more.

“No,” he almost surprises himself with the passion behind that word, and he knows he surprises Clarke because her hand tightens slightly, “You’re our best friend. You’re amazing Clarke and the things you can achieve are limitless. Look at the colleges you got into, you have such a bright future ahead of you, you just have to believe it and work for it. Everyone knows you’re unstoppable.”

“And how do I do that? I hardly know who I am anymore.” Clarke’s voice cracks, and she takes a final drag from the cigarette that looks like it might have already burnt out.

“Well you could start off with being kind to yourself.” Bellamy suggests as he pushes a strand of hair that’s fallen in front of her eyes behind her ear.

Clarke looks thoughtful for a moment, crushing the cigarette butt into the ground before resting her head on Bellamy’s shoulder.

“Maybe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously though this might be the longest singular block of writing I've ever done  
> Next chapter is where the Bellarke really kicks in  
> And a quick reminder that I'm a slut for feedback


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! What I thought was going to be the last chapter was gonna be massive so I've extended the story to 5 chapters now. We finally actually get some Bellarke in this chapter so I hope you enjoy it.

Bellamy can’t quite explain exactly how proud he is as he watches Octavia and Clarke graduate. The warm feeling that fills his chest as they walk across that stage can’t be compared to anything. They’re both happy and smiling and alive and he has to admit that he feels quite proud of himself as well. He did that. He got both of them through high school, definitely not unscathed, but they made it and he’s not sure he’ll ever feel more successful than he does right now. Abby isn’t here. Apparently, a work meeting was more important than her only child’s graduation but Bellamy had given up hope of Abby ever not letting Clarke down a long time ago, and he knows Clarke has long given up that hope too.

She’d told him as much, when he’d asked if Abby would be coming to graduation, she just shook her head and told him that she didn’t care anymore, that it was okay because she had him and Octavia and she didn’t need anyone else. Those words had set an inexplicable fire of affection burning in his stomach, and he’d leant forward and kissed her forehead and told her how proud he was and he’d meant it. Whilst she had still adamantly refused to see a therapist or counsellor, Clarke had definitely started trying more after their talk on the outside steps. Admittedly, she still drunk and got high a lot more than Bellamy liked, but the main difference now was that she’d talk to him. She’d let him know when things weren’t okay and let him help her and support her and he knew how hard she was working to move forward. Six months ago, he’d been terrified at the idea of her going to college on her own, but now he feels a lot more confident that she could be okay there.

He’s not sure if she believes it though, the closer she’s getting to leaving for college, the less enthusiastic she seems, and that is definitely a worry that’s been sitting in the back of his brain for a while. He’d decided to wait until after graduation to talk to her about it though, not wanting to unnecessarily stress or upset her. 

Octavia has secured an apprenticeship in a city a couple of hours drive away, and she’s leaving in just a week. He’s not quite sure how but he’s been convinced to hold a leaving/graduation party at his house, which is why he currently finds himself surrounded by drunk eighteen-year olds. It’s not a massive party, and Octavia had tried to convince him to go out for the night but there’s enough people in his house that he’s definitely sticking around to make sure things don’t get out of hand. 

He does agree to mostly stay in his bedroom though, and it’s as he’s sitting in there thinking about how much Octavia has grown up that it really sinks in. Octavia is leaving. In just one week his little sister will be living on her own in some big city where he isn’t there to watch over her. The more he thinks about it the more terrified he gets, so he has a few drinks to calm his nerves. He doesn’t get drunk though, he knows he can’t when he’s responsible for the people in his house, but he definitely begins to relax.

He pops out to get another drink at some point and lets himself get distracted by the very intense game of beer pong that is happening in the kitchen. He’s debating whether it’s a good or bad thing that Octavia is winning when he notices that Clarke isn’t there. A quick look out the window lets him know she’s not outside and suddenly he’s not feeling so relaxed and he’s starting to feel worried again. What if she’d snuck out to meet someone, or was too drunk and was somewhere in his house choking on her own vomit? The plan of getting another beer has been forgotten, in favour of finding Clarke.

He finds her.

In Octavia’s room.

And not alone.

She’s lying on the bed, another girl, Lexa, he thinks, or perhaps Niylah, is on top of her. To be honest he doesn’t pay that much attention to who it is, the fact that they’re there is bad enough. Both girls are still fully clothed now, thank god, but they clearly wouldn’t have been if he’d come in much later. His stomach clenches, that pulse of something that feels somewhat like jealousy is radiating through his body, the same feeling that happens whenever he inadvertently hears or thinks about Clarke’s sex life but it can’t be jealousy, because he has nothing to be jealous of. It’s protectiveness, that’s all. Protectiveness and maybe a bit of anger but definitely not jealousy.

He clears his throat, both girls looking up at him. Lexa (now that he can see her face, he knows that it’s her) looks embarrassed, but Clarke just looks confused.

“Out, now.” Bellamy surprises himself by just how angry his voice sounds. He doesn’t think he’s angry, he just doesn’t want to know about Clarke fucking someone whilst he’s in his room just down the hallway.

Clarke however, is definitely angry. She lets Lexa leave with an apology about ‘him’ and then glares in his direction. “What the fuck, Bellamy?”

“Well sorry I don’t want you doing that in my house!” He rolls his eyes at her affronted tone, like she had any reason to be mad.

“Doing what? Having sex? Well sorry to break it to you Bellamy but I’ve definitely done it in your house before!” Clarke spits back, launching herself off the bed so she is facing him, scowling up at him with fire burning behind her gaze.

The familiar clenching in his stomach returns as soon as she mentions that. It’s not jealousy. There’s no way.

“It’s not about that Clarke,” he responds through gritted teeth, “it’s about me looking after you!”

Clarke rolls her eyes, “Lexa was looking after me.”

He scoffs, “You think she was looking after you? You think anyone you’ve been with has looked after you properly?”

“What, you think you could look after me properly then?” She doesn’t sound so angry anymore, perhaps interested, intrigued. Like she does when she’s trying to push limits and get away with things she’s not supposed to be doing.

He blames the alcohol for what happens next. He really does.

He steps towards her, backing her into the wall and rests his hands against it, one each side of her arms. “Is that what you want, Princess?”

Clarke nods, slowly but certain. She’s looking at him with a challenge obvious in her eyes, “Yeah, Bell. Look after me.”

Then they’re kissing. It’s messy and rough and angry but oh so good. His mind blanks. He just focuses on how soft Clarke’s lips are and the feeling of her hands, one resting over his shoulder and the other curling in his hair. She whimpers when his lips leave hers and he swears he’s never heard a prettier sound. She does it again when his lips land on her neck, the hand in his hair tightening its grip. He moves his lips down the side of her neck, one hand leaving its place on the wall to begin feeling its way down the side of her body.

“Fuck,” Her voice is breathy as he nips and sucks at her pulse point, not hard enough to leave a mark but enough for her to feel it, “Bell.” Clarkes legs have shifted open slightly and he adjusts his thigh so that it’s in-between them. She grinds down and moans and-

Fuck.

His mind isn’t blank anymore. It’s flooded with thoughts about what he’s doing. This is Clarke. He’s supposed to look after her, not do this. He steps away from her, well, jumps like he’s been burnt might be a more accurate description. Clarke’s looking at him, confusion obvious in her expression and her face and chest are flushed. Both of them are breathing heavily, chests heaving as they stare at each other.

“Shit. Clarke. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-“ Bellamy begins to stutter out but Clarke cuts him off.

“What are you talking about Bellamy?” She takes a step towards him but he takes another step back.

“You’ve been drinking, and I have and I’m taking advantage. Fuck, I am so sorry this should never have happened.” He runs a stressed hand through his hair, trying not to think about how her hands were there just moments before.

“You’re not taking advantage, Bell, I know what I want.” Clarke’s tone is blasé. 

“No, you don’t, Clarke. You’re eighteen. I’m an adult and I am so, so sorry.” Bellamy’s still struggling to slow his thoughts down, still struggling to work out why he did that.

She just shrugs at that, not seeming to understand the gravity of the situation, “I’ve done stuff with people older than you before, if that helps.”

He glares at her, his voice coming out sounding more like a strangled growl than anything else, “It doesn’t.”

“I don’t get what the big deal is. I’m an adult and if I want you and you want me, what’s there to stop us?” Clarke argues, crossing her arms and locking her eyes on to his with a confrontational glower.

“The big deal is that I’m supposed to look after you and what I just did was not that. It was wrong.” Bellamy reiterates, praying that she’ll get the message. The fact that she doesn’t understand what’s wrong with the situation is definitely concerning to him.

“So,” Clarke said the word slowly, drew it out with a small smile on her face as she twists a strand of hair mindlessly around her finger, “You do want me though.”

“What?” Bellamy felt flustered. How was that what she’d taken from this conversation? “Yes – No – I don’t know! It’s not the point and it doesn’t matter either way. All that matters is that this was wrong and I’m sorry, okay?”

Clarke nods, a thoughtful look on her face worryingly close to the expression she wears when she’s planning something, “It’s okay Bell, don’t stress. I promise I don’t feel taken advantage of and I promise I’m not mad. I’m going to re-join the party.” Her voice was too kind, too innocent, but he couldn’t wrap his head around what that meant right now.

She left the room after that, and left him staring after her, still out of breath and his mind racing. 

What had he just done?

Bellamy didn’t get much sleep that night. He couldn’t keep his mind off what had happened with Clarke. A sick feeling of guilt had lodged itself in his stomach. He was an awful person and what made it worse was that he had liked it. He couldn’t seem to stop his mind from drifting to the sounds she made and the way her lips and hands felt and oh god he was going to hell.

Leaving his bedroom had never been as difficult as it was that morning. He had no clue what he was going to be faced with. What if Clarke had told Octavia? She would be so angry and disgusted; they both should be. It’s what he deserved. Still, he forces himself out of bed and cleans up the house and begins making breakfast. Even if they both hated him now, he could still make sure they had a proper breakfast to help cure the hangovers they’re surely experiencing.

The smell of pancakes apparently wakes the girls, and they both trudge downstairs looking exhausted and flop down at the table. He lets himself glance quickly at Clarke, expecting her to look angry or sad or scared or something but she seems…normal. Definitely worse for wear, but she’s not looking at him like she wants him dead, and neither is Octavia.

Things stay normal too. The next week is a rush of packing all of Octavia’s belongings up and last-minute preparations she needs for living on her own. Clarke doesn’t bring up what happened at the party and neither does he. It’s obvious that Octavia doesn’t know what happened and he’s not planning on doing anything that could change that. Honestly, he doesn’t really think about what happened with Clarke that much, mainly because he’s too busy panicking about the fact that his little sister is moving out in a few days. He’s terrified, but he pushes through and pretends to be excited because he knows its what O wants and he doesn’t want to make her feel bad for that at all.  
All too soon O’s things are all packed up in the second hand car they had both saved up for years to buy. Well, not all of her belongings would fit in her car so Bellamy is also driving up with the remainder of her things in his car. There was no way he could let her move in on her own anyway. The city Octavia is moving too is only about an hour drive away, so realistically he knows he can get to her pretty quickly if he ever needed to, but it doesn’t make it any easier to leave her there after all of her things are unpacked. Clarke’s with them, of course, and she’s in tears as she hugs O goodbye, even though Octavia just laughs as she hugs her back.

Then it’s his turn to say goodbye, and suddenly his throat is closing up and his eyes are getting wet.

“Not you too, big brother. I thought Clarke would be the only crier I had to deal with today. Thought you’d be excited to get rid of me.” Octavia’s tone is teasing as she hugs him, but she holds him tight and it’s the first sign she’s given him all day of being anything less than completely confident.

“You know I can’t wait to not be finding your hair all over the house,” he teases back, releasing her from his grip, “But seriously, O, if you ever need anything, whenever or whatever it is I’m just a call away.”

“I know, Bell,” Octavia responds with a smile, “And the same goes for you two idiots. Look after my brother Clarke, don’t let him mope about without me for too long.”

“I’ll do my best O.” Clarke laughs but she’s definitely still crying as she does.

Bellamy can’t stop himself hugging Octavia once more before leaving, reminding her that he wants a check in everyday, even if it’s just a quick text.

Then they leave, and O has officially moved out.

The drive back home starts off pretty quietly. He and Clarke sit in the front of the car listening to a playlist Octavia made them named ‘Don’t miss me too much’, which pretty much consists a bunch of her favourite, overplayed songs. It crosses Bellamy’s mind that this is the first time that he and Clarke have been alone since the party, but of course he doesn’t bring it up.

Clarke is the one to break the quiet in the car, “How does O do it? How is she always so confident that she’s doing the right thing?” Her voice is quiet, thoughtful.

Bellamy lets out a small laugh, “You know O, she doesn’t let anything faze her. She’s been ready to move out since she turned sixteen. You’ll be doing it soon enough anyway.”

Clarke doesn’t respond, just makes a noise that sounds like a mix between a snort and a sigh.

“Clarke, are you okay?” He asks softly.

“I don’t want to go to college.” She blurts the words out quickly, almost tripping over them in the rush to get them out of her mouth.

Bellamy can’t say he’s surprised. He’d been paying attention to her less than enthusiastic responses whenever college was bought up, he’d just been waiting for a good time to ask her about it.

“Do you not want to go to college at all, or do you just not want to do pre-med?” He questions, knowing just how hard Abby pushed to get Clarke to follow the path that her mother wanted for her.

Clarke thinks for a moment, “I’m not sure. Well, I know that I definitely don’t want to do pre-med, but doing something else at college could be fun. I don’t think I’m ready to go this year though anyway. It’s just so close and it’s going to be so much and I don’t think I can deal with a change that big yet.”

Bellamy’s torn. He knows Clarke could thrive at college, but he also definitely understands her concerns and they’re ones that he shares. What if she put too much pressure on herself and couldn’t cope? Anything could happen to her, especially without him there to look out for her. “What you do with your future is entirely up to you Clarke. You need to do what you think is best.”

Clarke snorts, “I think my mother would beg to differ.”

“You’re an adult now, Clarke. Your mom can’t control what you do. I agree that she definitely won’t be happy if you don’t go to college, but you know what’s best for you a lot better than she does.” He points out, not bothering to even try and convince himself that Abby would support Clarke’s decision. “Anyway, if she’s that bad then you know you can always take over O’s room until she calms down. You know you’re still welcome at the house whenever you want to be.”

“Thanks, Bell.”

Bellamy had entirely meant that she could be at the house whenever she wanted when he said it, and he guesses he still does but Clarke is spending what appears to be all of her time at the house right now and yes, it’s the middle of summer but she seems to have decided that lounging around in as little clothing as possible is okay. It’s always short shorts or short skirts and tops that don’t cover much or dresses that barely reach the top of her thighs and he wants to say that she is just doing it for comfort, but he’s sure she never used to dress like this around the house when Octavia was here. Perhaps she did and he just didn’t notice before, but he thinks that’s unlikely. Besides, there’s a niggling in the back of his mind that is reminding him of what happened at the party and by the time she’s ‘accidentally’ given him a flash of her underwear for the third time in as many hours he is pretty convinced that she’s doing this for his benefit. He’s also worried that it might be working. Each time he looks at her it’s getting harder and harder to look away.

He almost breaks and says something one day, when he’s sitting on the couch and Clarke is wondering the house wrapped in just a small towel under the pretence of looking for a specific item of clothing, but he is saved by his phone ringing.

It’s Miller, reminding him that he agreed to go out to a bar called the Dropship tomorrow night, and he has never been more thankful for a call from his friend. The call only lasts a couple of minutes, and by the time it ends Clarke is leaning against the door frame, a random shirt held in her hand and a devious look on her face.

He finds out what she’s planning the next night.

He’s sitting in a booth in The Dropship, opposite Murphy and Miller when he sees her. Well, more accurately, Murphy sees her and says, “Jesus Bell, isn’t that Octavia’s friend?”

He twists his neck so fast he thinks he might have given himself whiplash.

She’s leaning against the bar, wearing a skin tight red dress that just skims the top of her thighs with matching strappy heels that make her legs look never-ending. The dress hugs her curves just right and she looks hot, laughing with Niylah whilst they order drinks. She doesn’t look in his direction, but he knows that she knows he’s here.

He turns his head back to his friends slowly, “Yeah, that’s Clarke.” His voice is a lot lower than he was expecting.

“I didn’t realise she was older than Octavia.” Miller says, extremely unhelpfully.

“She’s not. She’s eighteen.” Bellamy growls out, reminding himself just as much as his friends.

“Well, she may be eighteen but she’s definitely dressed to impress tonight.” Murphy drawls, earning himself a death glare, but he’s right. Clarke is looking to impress someone, but she’s not looking for anyone’s attention except his, and he hates to admit it but he’s struggling to keep his head turned away.

Bellamy takes a gulp of his drink, weighing up his options in his head. He could mention to a bartender or security guard that she’s only eighteen, and she’d be kicked out straight away, but she’s drinking and he doesn’t want to risk her getting in trouble with the police. And at least if she stays here, he can keep an eye on her, right? He can just keep his distance and make sure she’s not getting herself into too much trouble. Simple.

It wasn’t simple, mainly due to the fact that Clarke wouldn’t let him avoid her. She had managed to position herself and her friends right in his eyeline, and he wasn’t at all surprised when she slid up next to him while he was at the bar ordering another drink.

“Bellamy,” She spoke slowly, her voice full of way too much sweetness for him to even consider that this was a coincidence, “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Clarke.” Is all he says in reply, keeping his voice flat and unimpressed. He doesn’t even turn his head to look at her, instead choosing to focus on the bartender getting his drink. He doesn’t trust himself to be able to look away.

“Don’t be like that, Bell,” Clarke’s voice is still light and teasing, “Aren’t you going to offer to get me a drink?”

“No.” He keeps his answer short again, feeling pretty proud of himself when he successfully avoids the arm she is ‘casually’ lifting to rest next to his on the bar.

The bartender returns with his beer, and he is ready to head back to the booth without having looked at Clarke when a new, unknown voice speaks, “If the mean guy won’t buy you a drink, I’m more than happy to sweetheart.”

He turns his head then, seeing a man that had to be around his age, maybe a few years older, leaning over to Clarke and making the offer with a lecherous smile on his face. Clarke is still focused fully on him though, one eyebrow raised as if it’s up to him as if it’s his move next.

“I don’t know why you’re looking at me Clarke, I’m not your keeper. Do whatever you want.” The words are more biting than he means them to be, but if he stops this then she wins and he can’t let her win this one. He almost regrets them as he’s sure he sees a flash of hurt cross her features, but it’s gone as quickly as it appeared and a new expression has replaced it – something cocky and confident that tells him that she hasn’t given up yet.

She turns to the man and puts on that same sickly-sweet voice she was using before as she says, “I would love a drink, thank you.”

Bellamy stalks away, back to the booth and his friends but he is now sufficiently distracted to be in a shit mood, especially as he watches Clarke’s every move with this guy. He buys her drinks and she flirts with him so obviously that Bellamy almost wants to throw up. She’s all giggles and wrapping her fair round her finger and he’s all annoying smirks and fingers dancing along her arms and his eyes never leave her chest and surely Clarke can’t be attracted to this douchebag. 

No, she’s not, the traitorous voice in his head points out, she’s attracted to you because you made out with her and you know you could go over and stop this whenever you wanted but you won’t because you’re attracted to her and don’t want to give it away even though she literally already knows because your tongue was down her throat a few weeks ago. 

Miller and Murphy obviously notice his rapidly depleting mood and distraction, but they know him well enough not to mention it, they just keep buying drinks and keeping the conversation going until they announce that they’re heading home.

Bellamy nods and says his goodbyes, letting them know that he’s going to ‘stick around a little bit longer to keep an eye on that,’ that being Clarke and the douchebag who are now dancing, if the excessive grinding and his hands all over her can even be described as that. 

He really wasn’t going to intervene, he was just keeping an eye on the situation to make sure nothing bad happens and that’s exactly what he’s doing, sitting in the corner of the bar and making sure she’s safe, pretending that the sight of this man all over Clarke doesn’t make his blood boil with jealousy. He’s impressed with the amount of self-restraint he’s showing until she looks at him. She actually has the audacity to make eye contact with him while she’s grinding against this creep and Bellamy can see his hands at the top of her thighs and he’s sure he sees one creeping in-between them and that’s when he breaks. He’s on his feet, storming towards where the two are dancing and Clarke’s eyes are on him the whole time, a triumphant smirk plastered on her face as he grabs her wrist and growls out, “We’re leaving.” He doesn’t miss the fact that her smile might even get bigger when his hand closed around her wrist and he definitely doesn’t miss the insincere apology she shoots at the douchebag.

They’re walking away from the bar, Bellamy’s hand still enclosed around Clarke’s wrist, he’s not completely sure where they’re heading but he’s too riled up to stop yet. Clarke eventually pulls her hand from his wrist and leans against a wall, smirking as she says, “Took you long enough. Thought I might actually have to try and leave with him to get you to do something.”

Bellamy’s angry and jealous and maybe a bit tipsy and definitely a lot upset but he hopes that the anger is what’s obvious in his voice as he spits out, “What are you playing at, Clarke? What exactly is it you were trying to achieve because all I was seeing was you letting that creep do whatever he wanted to you!”

If the anger is obvious enough in his voice, Clarke doesn’t react to it. She just shrugs, still with that infuriating smirk on her face and replies, “I was trying to get your attention. And it worked.”

It didn’t make him feel any better to hear what he already knew out loud, in fact it definitely made him feel worse.

“I give you plenty of attention Clarke, stop acting like a bratty child just because Octavia’s gone!” Bellamy snapped back, eyes blazing as he glared at her.

“Not the kind of attention I want!” Clarke retorts, not smirking anymore.

Bellamy doesn’t speak, and Clarke seems to rethink her method, letting the tension drop out of her body and making her voice softer, “Bell, if I thought this wasn’t something that we both wanted, I wouldn’t be doing it, I promise. I get you have your reservations; I understand that, but we are both adults and I am telling you how much I want you, and I know you want me too.”

“How do you know that?” Bellamy’s voice is a lot lower and breathier than he would have liked.

“Because your response tonight was pure jealousy and nothing else, and right now you’re looking at me exactly like you were the night of the party.” She trails one of her hands up the side of his face, letting it rest on his jaw for a moment before pulling his head down into a bruising kiss. It doesn’t last long but it’s all fire and heat and passion and they’re both their breaths are heavier when they pull away.

“Is that what you wanted?” Bellamy mutters, knowing his resolve has pretty much completely dissipated. Could anyone really blame him? Clarke has been wearing him down for weeks and he wants her so badly he can hardly think of anything else.

“You know it is.” Clarke smirks, shooting him a wicked grin as she grabs his hand and pulls him into a conveniently placed alley. 

He realises that she probably stopped walking here on purpose, but the thought is pushed out of his mind by the return of her lips on his, her arms wrapping lazily around the back of his neck as she tugs a hand through his curls, drawing a noise he should definitely be embarrassed by from the back of his throat.

They make out like that for a while, Bellamy pressed against the wall of the alley until his fingers find themselves on her hips and he flips them round, Clarke’s back now pressed against the cold brick and him leaning over her. It was rougher than he’d meant it to be, but the mix between a giggle and a moan that came out of her mouth when she hit the wall let him know that she liked it. One of his hands stays steady on her waist as they kiss, but the other begins to dip slightly lower and his fingers begin to play with the hem of her dress, her legs instinctively opening slightly as his hand got closer to where she wanted it.

He pulls his lips away from hers and looks at Clarke’s face. Her breathing is heavy and her eyes are blown and her lips are red from the kissing and smeared lipstick and he’s not sure she’s ever looked better. “Are you sure you want this? Because we can still stop.” He asks, checking for any sign of reluctance or hesitation he could use to remind himself that this was a bad idea.

There is none. “I want it, Bell.” Clarke’s voice is confident, definitely a bit breathy but she knows what she wants.

Then they’re kissing again and it’s just as bruising but he’s also slipping one of his hands up the inside of her thigh. He growls when his fingers reach her underwear and he can feel just how wet she is, savouring the sound of her breath hitching as his fingers rub her softly over the flimsy lace. He knows he’s winding her up, knows that she wants more but he’s not going to give it to her until she asks and she eventually gives in, pulling her lips away from his just enough to whimper out, “Please, Bell.”

He gives her what she wants, and he’s not sure he’s ever experienced anything as amazing as Clarke Griffin falling apart on his fingers. The sounds she makes and the feeling of her nails scratching down his back and the sound of his name dropping from her lips like a prayer is all so overwhelming he doesn’t know how he could ever let it go.

He has to though, because this cannot happen again.

When Clarke’s gathered herself, she drops her hands down to his belt, but he steps away, hand dropping to hers to make sure she doesn’t try again. She looks up at him, clearly confused.

“It’s time to head home, Princess.” He murmurs.

Clarke smirks, not understanding what he’s saying, “Look at you being all chivalrous and not fucking me in an alley.”

“No,” Bellamy sighs, “you’re going to your house and I’m going to mine. We’re not doing anything else.”

That clearly hadn’t been what Clarke was expecting, “What do you mean?” Her voice is just as confused as her face is.

“I mean that I’ve given you what you wanted and now it’s done and we can both move on.” He responds gently.

“But that wasn’t all I wanted,” Clarke tries to argue, “It’s not fair that you got me off if I don’t get you off.”

“Clarke,” Bellamy’s voice is firmer this time, “You know this can’t be anything else, anything more, and it isn’t happening again.”

She snorts, rolling her eyes as she retorts “I know you want me; I’m not giving up.”

“Clarke-“

“Tell me you don’t want me.” She takes a step towards him, looking at him with a look that she wants him to see as confident but instead screams hopeful at him.

Bellamy takes a deep breath, he won’t lie to her, not now. “I can’t, but that doesn’t change anything. No matter what you think, it is wrong for me to want you, you deserve better than me and if you can’t accept that then we can’t be around each other.”

“I don’t – I can’t not be around you Bell, I don’t have anyone else. I don’t understand why you can’t just accept this.” Clarke’s beginning to get frustrated, he can tell.

“The fact that you don’t understand is just another reason why it can’t happen, Clarke.” He’s trying to keep his voice as calm as possible, but he’s beginning to get frustrated too.

She scoffs at that, all hints of flirting and seduction being quickly replaced with anger “Don’t patronise me, Bellamy. So, what are you doing, just cutting me out of your life now?”

“No.” The last thing Bellamy wants is Clarke out of his life right now, but it’s what he needs, what they need. “I just think that we should have a bit of space from each other so we can both get over this.”

“What if I don’t want to get over this?” Clarke bites back, staring icily at him.

“Then maybe we can’t be around each other at all, but that’s up to you.” He hisses back, internally berating himself for giving in to his anger and not finding a way to defuse the situation. He hadn’t wanted it to go like this.

“Fuck you, Bellamy.” Clarke spits out, looking him up and down with disdain before storming away from him.

He follows, not willing to give up on the conversation just yet. “This is what’s best for both of us, Clarke.”

“Why is it you that get to decide that Bellamy? Don’t you think I know what’s good for me?” Clarke shouts, not turning round to face him as she walks.

“Most of the time? Not really. Have you just forgotten your tendencies to rely on alcohol or drugs or anything that distracts you from your life?” He spits out harshly, regretting the words almost as soon as they leave his mouth.

Clarke stops suddenly, spinning round to face him. “That’s not fair, Bell. I’ve been trying, you know I have.” Her voice is quieter, and the hurt is obvious in it. He hates that he made her sound like that.

“I know, Clarke,” He sighs, not quite able to get the apology to fall from his lips yet, “but surely you see that all I am is just another distraction for you.”

“So what if you are?” Clarke responds, “Surely it’s better to be distracted by you than anything that’s actually bad for me. And I hate to break it to you but you definitely have some distraction issues yourself.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Your obsession with looking after me and O. Even before your mom died, you should have been out being a kid but instead you focused purely on us and that’s all you’ve done since.” She explains, raising an eyebrow at him that’s just daring him to try and argue with her, “You’ve completely forgone anything you wanted or could have done in your life because of us, and that’s not normal. For O, maybe, she’s your little sister and your only family but she’s moved out and living her own life now. I’m not your family, though. The only reason you see me as your responsibility is because I’m fucked up and you don’t know what to do with yourself if you haven’t got someone relying on you.”

She’s right. He knows he has some issues with feeling responsible and protective over people, especially O and Clarke, but she isn’t right about everything. “No, Clarke. I am responsible for you because I care about you and the way that you act doesn’t and will never change anything about that.”

“Well maybe it’s time to stop being responsible and start doing whatever the fuck you want. It’ll make you feel a lot better, trust me.” Clarke retorts.

“I don’t think I can do that, Princess.” Bellamy murmurs.

“We’ll see.” The way Clarke says it sounds vaguely threatening and definitely ominous, but before he can ask what she means there’s an uber pulling up that she must have ordered in the midst of their argument and she’s gone, leaving him alone, wound up and slightly confused in the middle of the night.

It was harder than Bellamy thought it would be to stay away from Clarke, especially when the things she was posting on social media were showing him that she wasn’t coping well and he knew that it was his fault, but he also knew that this was likely just another technique she was using to try and get him to give in to her. It was hard not to, especially now he knew what it felt like to be able to make her feel good, it was impossible not to think about.

The house has been too quiet for too many days. Octavia is gone and happy in her new city. She’s making friends and living her life and he’s been doing his best to avoid Clarke. Bellamy feels lost, like he doesn’t quite know what he’s doing with himself anymore. This really is the first time in his life that he doesn’t have someone to directly look after and Clarke was right, he isn’t dealing with it well. He’s trying to sleep but it’s not working. He closes his eyes but there’s an uncomfortable feeling coursing through his veins that is leaving sleep out of his reach. 

He’s grateful for that when he hears the front door opening and someone literally falling through it, followed by a curse and a familiar giggle. Clarke. He doesn’t think twice about rolling out of bed and pulling some grey joggers on. This is what he knew how to do. Clarke’s slumped against the door as he rushes downstairs, obviously very drunk, apparently struggling to undo her heels and also looking half asleep.

She smiles at him when she sees him standing in front of her, then stops as it seems to cross her mind that the two of them aren’t in a great place right now. “I’m sorry Bell,” Clarke’s voice is quiet, “I couldn’t go home.” 

She’s still trying to undo her shoes.

“It’s okay, Princess,” Bellamy crouches down in front of her and takes over the shoe unbuckling. He’s not just talking about her falling into his house drunk in the middle of the night. He tries to ignore how he lets his hand linger near hers, “I’ve missed you.”

She smiles again then, he’s not quite sure if it’s because she likes hearing that he missed her or if it’s because her feet feel a lot better now that they’re not squished into ridiculously uncomfortable shoes. Maybe it’s a mix of both. He likes seeing her smile though. “I’ve missed you too, Bell.”

He likes hearing that too.

“Let’s get you some water and get you to bed.” Bellamy says, standing up straight and pulling Clarke up after him. He doesn’t like that she’s so drunk but he can’t deny that he’s missed being able to look after her. It had only been a couple of weeks.

They’re halfway up the stairs (Clarke in front of him just in case she falls backwards) when Bellamy remembers that there are no sheets on Octavia’s bed and he can’t particularly be bothered to make the bed now, so Clarke’s going to have to stay in his room. That’s fine, he can sleep on the couch.

He gives her one of his shirts to sleep in. He says it’s because he doesn’t think Octavia left any clothes, but really, he just wants to see her wearing it. She looks good in the playsuit she’s currently wearing but he knows she’ll look so much better in his top. He’s given up on not thinking about how pretty she is, especially after what happened at the club and in the alley. He’s a bad person, he knows.

He’s also right. When she leaves the bathroom in just his t-shirt his mouth goes dry and he feels a pang of longing deep in his stomach. He wasn’t just a bad person; he was also disgusting.

He hovers whilst she gets into his bed, double-checking that she’s okay and doesn’t feel sick and has everything she needs. He says goodnight and heads towards the door when Clarke finally speaks.

“Stay.” 

He turns around slowly and looks at her. She looks so small in his bed, so alone, and god he wants to stay but he can’t, he shouldn’t.

“I told my mum I wasn’t sure about going to College today,” she explains, voice quiet, “She didn’t take it well.”

“I’m sorry, Princess. She’ll come around.” He crouches next to the bed, tucking a few strands of stray hair behind her ear and leaning forward to place a soft kiss on the crown of her head.

“Please, Bell,” Clarke’s voice cracks and he can see her eyes begin to get watery, “Just to sleep. I swear I won’t try anything. I just don’t want to be alone; I can’t be alone.”

He can’t say no to her anymore. He doesn’t want to say no.

So, he says yes.

He climbs into bed and wraps his arms around her, letting himself think about how right she feels with her back against his chest, how relaxing it is to be able to listen her breathing as she falls asleep, how good it is to know she’s safe and he’s here looking after her.

He sleeps better than he has in weeks.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next chapter, and I swear the next one actually will be the last one, I promise.  
> Anyway, if I had to summarise this chapter in three words it would be sex (although nothing super explicit), arguments and angst so take from that what you will.   
> I hope you enjoy.

It’s no surprise to Bellamy that Clarke’s still fast asleep when he wakes up the next morning. She’s never been an early riser, particularly after drinking, whilst he’s needed to be awake by 7am regularly since he was in his early teens, and it’s a habit he hasn’t managed to kick yet, even despite the late hour he finally got to sleep at the night before. He doesn’t get out of bed straight away, just lies in bed with Clarke in his arms, watching the regular rise and fall of her chest and thinking about how peaceful she looks when she’s fast asleep. He’s probably being creepy, but he’s also happy so he doesn’t really care. Having Clarke in his arms feels right, and even though he’s not quite sure what it means yet, he’s not planning on letting her go.

He drifts off into that lovely space between being awake and asleep, where he isn’t quite dreaming but also isn’t quite locked in with reality and he is only pulled out of it by Clarke finally moving next to him, stretching out and letting a soft groan fall from her lips. Her back is still pressed against his chest, so he can’t see her face to see her reaction to waking up in his bed. He’s waiting to see her tense up, to realise that she’s somewhere she doesn’t want to be and sneak out of his bed and house to forget she was ever there, but she doesn’t. She stays completely lax in his arms, lifting her hands to rest against his own where they are lying against her stomach, tracing random patterns into the skin between his thumb and wrist.

“Good Morning, Princess.” Bellamy breaks the comfortable silence between them.

“Morning.” Clarke replies, and if you asked him Bellamy would say that it sounded like she was smiling. He hopes she is at least.

“How are you feeling?” He asks softly.

“Not too bad. I wasn’t actually that drunk last night.” 

“Really?” His tone makes it obvious that he knows she’s lying. She might feel okay now, but last night she was smashed.

“Yeah.” Clarke insists.

“You couldn’t get your shoes off. I had to take them off for you.” Bellamy deadpans, a victorious glint in his voice because she literally can’t dispute that fact.

Stubborn as she is, she still tries, pausing for a moment to consider her next words before responding, “I can hardly take those shoes off sober. They’re too fiddly.”

Bellamy laughs, “I’m sure they are.”

“They are!” Clarke whines, and Bellamy keeps laughing, “Shut up!”

He doesn’t, and Clarke responds by shoving a playful elbow into his ribs, rolling over to face him as she does so. She looks way too proud of herself at the pained expression on his face. 

“That was mean.”

“Oops.” She bats her eyelids innocently as she speaks. It’s always slightly disconcerting when she puts her angelic voice and face on, because he knows her way too well to be able to believe it.

He just rolls his eyes, a fond smile on his face. They fall back into the comfortable silence, Clarke still painting patterns into his skin with her fingers.

It’s Bellamy that speaks first again, “Do you want to talk about what happened with your mom yesterday?”

Clarke stops moving her fingers, the smile on her face dropping away, “Not really.”

“Come on, Clarke. It obviously upset you.” Bellamy pushes. He’s not going to let her bottle this up.

She takes a deep breath and exhales, “There isn’t really much to tell. I told her I didn’t want to go to college this year, and that I definitely didn’t want to do pre-med. She took it personally. We argued. Nothing new.”

“When you say she took it personally, what did she say?” He questions. Clarke’s being vague and he knows Abby’s said some vile things to her in the past, and he can tell that Clarke’s leaving something out. 

The blonde rolls her eyes, but she keeps talking, “She made it all about her, decided it was a way of me acting out against her and that ‘ruining my future’ was a personal choice just to show her up. I tried to explain that I have my own reasons for not wanting to go, but she didn’t want to hear them.”

“Sounds like Abby.”

Clarke snorts, “Tell me about it.”

“Anything I can do?” Bellamy offers.

“Honestly? Breakfast would be really nice,” Clarke lifts the covers she’s been sleeping under and sniffs, wrinkling her nose in disgust before adding, “And a shower.”

“Okay,” Bellamy laughs, stretching once more before rolling out of bed, not saying a word as Clarke follows his every move with an appreciative look in her eye, “You go shower and I’ll make breakfast. You want pancakes?”

“Pancakes would be great.” Clarke mirrors his actions, getting out of bed and shooting him a flirty smile. Bellamy knows that his eyes probably hold the exact same look that hers do.

Bellamy is mostly finished with breakfast by the time Clarke walks into the kitchen, just finishing frying the last few pancakes. He glances over to her and immediately is torn between regretting that or thanking whatever higher being there is for what he sees. She’s wearing another one of his shirts, a different one to last night that she somehow looks even better in. It’s shorter, only skimming halfway down her thigh and he lets himself appreciate it, watching with one eye as she rests her back against the table, pushing herself up by her arms to it on it and slowly crossing one leg over the other.

“You know,” her voice is suspiciously bubbly, “I obviously didn’t bring any spare underwear, and Octavia didn’t leave any, so…” she trails off, shooting a dazzling smirk at him.

Bellamy hates to be a typical red-blooded heterosexual male, but his eyes immediately travel to the apex where her legs meet and his hand tightens around the handle of the pan, “Clarke.” Her name comes out of his mouth in a mix between a groan and an admonishment. 

“What?” Clarke’s still using that bubbly voice, twirling her hair around a finger as she watches him. He can tell that she’s enjoying pretending that she doesn’t know what she’s doing.

“We need to eat breakfast.” He answers lamely, dragging his eyes back to the pancakes, which are leaning towards overdone.

“I’m not saying we shouldn’t.” She slides off the table, settling instead in a seat at the table.

“You’re insufferable.” He mutters, siding the last few pancakes on to a plate and shoving them in front of her

“I know.” She grins back at him.

They eat, but Bellamy can’t focus on the food. All he can think about is Clarke sitting opposite him in just his shirt. Nothing else. Nothing at all. He’s always enjoyed seeing girls in his clothes, but this is something else.

“You okay there, Bell? You seem a bit distracted.” Clarke asks through a mouthful of pancakes, purely because she knows that people talking with their mouths full is one of his pet peeves. It just makes him want to throw himself at her even more.

He just takes a deep breath, hoping she doesn’t hear the shake in it, “Completely fine, Clarke.”

He knows she’s watching him as he tidies up afterwards. He can feel her eyes fully focused on him, following his every move as he pointedly doesn’t look in her direction. He’s just waiting for her to make her move., he won’t let himself crack first, but the knowledge that she is sitting in nothing but his shirt is still seared into the forefront of his mind and it’s impossible to focus on anything else.

He puts the final plate away, and only then does Clarke move, standing up from the chair by the table and purposefully walking to the opposite side of the kitchen to him. It’s Bellamy’s turn to watch now, and he does so unabashedly, leaning against the cupboard in what he hoped was a casual way. She opens a cupboard above her head, reaching up to grab a glass but as she does so her – his – top rides up and where it hit the top of her thighs before it is now covering nothing and Bellamy can’t hold himself back anymore.

He’s across the kitchen in two seconds flat, launching his hands into the counter either side of Clarke’s waist. He keeps his arms straight, ensuring that even if he is crowding her, he isn’t actually touching her. Not yet. 

Clarke doesn’t get the glass out of the cupboard, just lets her arm drop back down to the counter, placing it carefully next to where his knuckles clench the side. 

“What is it, Bell?” Her voice is light and airy, with an undeniable teasing tone set to it, “See something you like?”

He doesn’t respond, just keeps his eyes on her as she slowly turns around between his arms so that she’s facing him, her face still somehow the picture of innocence. She doesn’t say anything either, just lets her eyes drop to the bulge beginning to show through his joggers, raising an eyebrow as she does so.

She knows exactly what she’s doing to him. 

“Clarke,” Bellamy’s voice isn’t as stable as he’d like it to be, “I just want to look after you, I don’t-“

“Look after me then.” Clarke interrupts, her voice losing the teasing tone and dropping an octave in a way that made him want to combust. He lets his eyes meet hers and he sees nothing but heat behind them. She has her back to the kitchen counter, in between his arms. His knuckles ache with how tight his fists are holding on to the edge of the counter, fighting the urge to move them to her waist, her hair, her thighs –

“Clarke, we shouldn’t.” He knows his voice is weak and unconvincing but he tries to muster up an ounce of self-control, however pointless it may be. He moves to take a step backwards and away from Clarke, but is stopped by her hands grabbing on to his forearms. The contact makes his brain short circuit, he wants her so badly and the fire burning in his gut is only growing. 

“Why not?” She moves one of his hands to his waist, letting her fingers dip beneath his shirt and run along his bare skin.

“You know why.” Bellamy knows that his words mean nothing right now. They both know that he’s already given in, and has no plans to extract himself from this situation but he needs to be sure. He needs to know without a shadow of a doubt that this is what Clarke wants, what she needs, and she knows that too. She’s letting him go through the motions and do what he needs to do before they go any further. He lets himself get distracted by the feel of her fingers on his skin, lets his mind drift to how they’d feel in other places. He keeps trying to talk anyway. “You’re only eighteen, for starters. I’m supposed to look out for you and keep you safe. If O ever finds out she’ll end both of us. I’m – god -I’m bad for wanting you so much, Princess. The things I want to do to you – I – “

“It’s okay, Bell.” Clarke cuts him off, the hand she has resting on his forearm slowly moves to wrap around the back of his neck, painting soothing patterns into his skin. He’s watching her face closely and sees her expression change to something slightly darker, just as intense but definitely more manipulative. He knows he’s not going to like what she says next before she even opens her mouth.

“I need someone to look after me Bell, and if it’s not you then I will find someone else,” Her voice is saccharine, sickly sweet in a way that he knows isn’t genuine but he feels himself falling for anyway. He knows she’s slept with plenty of other people, but the idea of that happening now, if he rejects her? It’s not fair and she knows it. She knows he won’t say no to her now, this is just Clarke’s way of letting him know that she doesn’t want to wait any longer. He moves his hands to grab her arms, pinning them to the countertop at the crooks of her elbow, needing to regain some control over the situation. A look of shock flits across her face and he panics for a moment that his grip is too tight, that he’s somehow hurt her, but then it settles into a look of satisfaction and she keeps talking in that same innocent tone, “They probably won’t be as good as you, Bell. They might not be nice to me. They won’t care about me. It’ll just be a random person that I meet in a random place. They probably won’t care about making me feel good either, they’ll just want someone to fuck and I’ll let them do what they want to me. I’ll let them hurt me and use me and fuck me rough and - “

Bellamy won’t listen to anymore, he can’t. He almost growls as he surges forward, chest pressed against hers as their lips meet in a messy, bruising kiss. The moment they do she fucking whines, just like she did in the alley and he still can’t get over the beautiful sounds she makes. He moves one of his hands from her arm and runs it up her back and over her neck until his hand is tangled in her hair, gripping her curls. He tugs slightly, not enough to hurt her but enough that she tilts her head up more, making it easier to kiss her and giving him space to snake his other arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him. She whines again when he pulls her hair and all he can do is make a choked sound in response. 

He pulls his lips away from hers, getting a sick sense of satisfaction from how blown her eyes are, how gone she already looks for him. “I’m gonna look after you, gonna look after you so good that you’re not even going to be able to think about anyone else. Is that what you want, Princess?” His voice is breathy, and he knows he’s just as gone for her as she is for him. 

She nods, but he wants to hear her say it. 

He kisses her again, but quickly this time and she whines again when he pulls his lips away. He’s never heard a more addictive sound fall from her lips.

“You gonna be a good girl for me?”

Another nod.

“Tell me what you want, baby.”

She has a visible reaction to being called baby, and he loves it. Loves that he’s going to look after her, going to be able to make her feel so good, he’s going to have her falling apart for him over and over, not just once like in the alley. He can really make her his.

“I need you, Bell. Need you to fuck me, need you to make me feel good. Need you to look after me. Please.” Clarke groans out, clearly finding it hard to focus on what she’s saying as he kisses his way down her neck.

“Fuck, Clarke,” Bellamy drops the hand that isn’t in her hair to the top of her thighs, and she shifts them apart so that he can dip it between them, “God, you’re soaked, aren’t you Princess? How long have you been this wet for me?”

Clarke’s breath hitches in her throat as he slides his finger along her folds, “All morning,” her voice is delightfully strained, “since I woke up. I got off in the shower, you know? And the way you looked at me when I told you I didn’t have any underwear on, I was practically dripping all through breakfast, I –“

He cuts her off with another kiss, swallowing the moans that are beginning to escape from her throat, only pulling away when he begins to drop to his knees in front of her.

“Sorry for keeping you waiting so long, baby,” he growls out, “Let me make it up to you.”

She’s so worked up that it doesn’t take him long to have her falling apart on his mouth, and he thankfully has the presence of mind to take her to his bedroom before they do anything else. As desperate as he is to fuck her, he doesn’t want their first time to be in the kitchen, he wants to treat her right.

When they’re finished, Clarke assures him that he definitely did.

He and Clarke fall into some kind of routine over the next few weeks. She’s there pretty much whenever he isn’t at work and they talk and laugh and cuddle and fuck and sleep and do whatever the hell they want whenever the hell they want. They don’t tell Octavia, they don’t even discuss it because there is absolutely no question as to what her rection would be (bad, is the answer), but right now it doesn’t matter. Clarke was right when she said things were better when you didn’t spend all your time worrying about being responsible.

They don’t discuss labels. Again, it’s something Bellamy doesn’t really feel the need to do right now. Neither of them are looking to go out and announce their new relationship to the world, they’re happy as they are in their own little bubble, and he’s not planning on doing anything that would risk breaking their happiness just yet.

As always, Abby Griffin has other plans.

She shows up at the house one random afternoon. He and Clarke are both in, lazing around (making out and half undressed) on the sofa with some random show on Netflix playing in the background when they hear a sharp knocking at the door.

Clarke pulls her hand out of his pants (okay, maybe they weren’t just making out) with a huff, “Are you expecting anybody?”

“No, just ignore them, they’ll come back if it’s important.” Bellamy breathes out before pulling Clarke’s mouth back to his, eager for her hand to return to where it had been moments before.

The knocking returned though, and this time was accompanied by a voice that they both knew all too well shouting through the letterbox, “It’s Abby. I need to speak to my daughter.”

That definitely killed the mood.

“Shit.” Clarke cursed, rolling off Bellamy and looking at him with a glint of panic in her eyes that he was sure was also reflected in his.

“Right,” Bellamy took a deep breath, taking a second to gather his thoughts, “You go upstairs and put on some clothes that are yours. I’ll do small talk. Be quick.”

Clarke nods, launching herself upstairs whilst Bellamy pulls his shirt back on, pulling the zipper on his jeans up as Abby knocks again.

He takes a final deep breath and hopes he doesn’t look quite as dishevelled as he feels before finally opening the door with a fake smile plastered on his face, “Abby, hi!”

“Bellamy, lovely to see you,” he has a feeling that Abby’s smile is equally as fake as his, “I don’t suppose Clarke is here? I’m ever so sorry to barge in like this but she’s refusing to answer her phone or even come home when I’m there so I appear to have no other alternative.”

“Yeah, she’s just upstairs actually,” He decides that not reacting to anything Abby says is probably his best bet, “Clarke, your moms here!”

“Coming,” Clarke sounds every bit the insolent teenager as she stomps down the stairs, coming to a stop a couple of metres away from Abby, “Why are you here?”

Abby doesn’t seem at all perturbed by her daughters harsh greeting, and Bellamy can’t help but wonder when the last time the two actually had a civil conversation was.

“Would you care to explain to me why I received a call from an extremely concerned Marcus wanting to check that everything was okay due to you rescinding your acceptance from college?” Abby remarks, an expression of pure distaste on her face. 

Bellamy assumed she was talking about Marcus Kane. According to Clarke he was a very close friend of Abby’s (although she also thought they might be in some kind of relationship) who also happened to hold some high up position in the college Clarke had been due to attend.

Clarke doesn’t miss a beat before replying, “Because I’m not going to college this year, like I told you.”

“This is something we should have discussed.” Abby hisses.

“I tried, remember? But instead of discussing it with me, you just shouted and made it clear that you wouldn’t listen to a word I said so I didn’t really see the point in bringing it up to you again!” Clarke’s voice is steadily rising, and Bellamy can tell that both she and her mother are gearing up for a full-blown argument. He’s torn between standing his ground and trying to ensure things don’t get too out of hand and getting as far away as he can from what is sure to be an explosive stand-off.

“That is not what happened! If I remember correctly, you stormed out of the house, not me!” Abby retorts.

“If I remember correctly,” Clarke spat out a worryingly good impression of her mother, “I left after you told me ‘to get out if I wasn’t prepared to stop being so ungrateful and childish’.”

“You are being ungrateful and childish, Clarke!” Abby retaliates, voice getting louder by the second “You are throwing away everything that you’ve worked hard for and been offered, and for what? Because you’re too lazy to do pre-med?”

“No,” Clarke shoots back, “I don’t want to go to college this year because I am not ready! I also know that I definitely don’t want to do pre-med and I don’t want to be a doctor. So, instead of being stressed and unhappy this year I am taking some time and reconsidering my options. I’m not saying I never want to go to college, just not right now.”

“Oh, and what are you going to do instead of pre-med,” Abby challenged, voice taking on a sneering tone, “Art?”

“Maybe I will. If I want to go to college and major in art then I can! This is my life and I can do what I want with it.” Clarke counters, an edge of hysteria beginning to creep through the anger in her tone.

Abby scoffs, “Clarke, if you seriously think you will live any kind of fulfilling life with an art degree then you’re deluded!”

“I don’t need any degree to live a fulfilling life! Bellamy doesn’t have a degree and he lives completely comfortably and happily.” Any option Bellamy still had to sneak away was shattered by Clarke bringing him into this. 

Abby seemed to have almost forgotten he was still there, but he could see on her face how carefully she was picking the next words that came out of her mouth, “I mean absolutely no disrespect to Bellamy, but he could have achieved a lot more with a degree, and besides, he had other priorities whilst you do not.” 

Abby has always been good at speaking diplomatically, a skill she definitely hasn’t passed on to Clarke, who rolls her eyes at him in a silent apology before turning back to her mother, anger still burning in her gaze, “I am an adult. If I don’t want to go to college I don’t have to, and there’s nothing you can do to make me.”

“I suppose not,” Abby bites back, “But know your father would be ashamed of you.”

That knocks the air out of Clarke’s lungs. Bellamy can see the moment her body deflates –walls of anger collapsing in on themselves and landing as a pile of rubble at her feet. “What?” The fire in her voice is no longer there, replaced by uncertainty and hurt.

Abby, however, keeps spitting out vindictive words, “You heard me, Clarke. You think he’d want to see his only child not going to college? He’d be so disappointed in you.”

Bellamy wants nothing more than to order Abby out of his house, but he knows Clarke wouldn’t thank him for that, he just has to watch as she absorbs the bullet-like words and processes them, unable to deflect them like she had so many other things her mother had said to her.

“He wouldn’t, he’d be proud that I’m doing what I know is good for me. He’d want me to be happy.” Clarke’s voice cracks on that final word, and Bellamy can see the tears threatening to spill from the corners of her eyes.

Abby doesn’t seem to notice, or if she does then she doesn’t care, “You keep telling yourself that, Clarke. You’re putting way too much purchase on happiness. Marcus says he’ll hold your place for another week, and I hope you come to your senses. If you don’t then we will have to discuss your living and financial arrangements.”

Abby leaves, and Clarke breaks.

Her chest is heaving with the effort she is putting into breathing evenly and she’s shaking, legs trembling as she lowers herself down towards the floor, seemingly not trusting them to hold her up any longer. She lifts her hands to her hair, anchoring her fingers near her scalp and pulling as she chokes out a mix between a scream and a sob from behind her arms. Bellamy is by her side in an instant, arms wrapping around her and holding her as close to his chest as he can. 

“Clarke. It’s okay. You’re okay. I’ve got you.” Bellamy attempts to soothe her, whispering comforting words into her ear, “Breathe in for four, and out for four. You know what to do. I’m here.”

“It’s not fair.” Clarke chokes out, voice cracking through her cries.

“I know Princess, I know.” He moves one of his hands slowly so that it is hovering over Clarke’s own, waiting until her fingers unclench so that he can peel them from her hair.

“I hate it, Bell. I hate her.” Clarke’s legs are still trembling beneath her and Bellamy scoops her up from the floor, pretty much carrying her to the couch and letting her curl up in his chest as they sit, her hands now fisted into the material of his shirt.

She cries for a long time. Heaving sobs turning into silent tears and he just sits, holding her tight and running his fingers through her hair until her breathing evens out. Still he holds her, placing soft kisses on her head and murmuring soothing statements. He won’t move until she wants him to.

She eventually does readjust herself, pushing herself up from where she’s moulded against his chest and swinging her leg over his thigh so that she’s straddling him, removing her hands from his shirt and resting one against his shoulder whilst lifting the other to cup the side of his face. His hands automatically dip down to her hips to hold her steady as she leans into kiss him. He can taste the salt of her tears on her lips and the kiss itself is desperate, full of raw emotion and a need for control that he’s more than happy to give her. Bellamy stays pliant beneath Clarke, letting his fingers dance down to the top of her thighs and back up to her waist again, letting her lead until she pulls her lips from his and leans her forehead against his, close enough that he can feel the fluttering of her eyelashes as she blinks.

Only then does he speak. “Tell me what you need, Baby.”

“I don’t want to think about it, Bell. I don’t want to think about anything. Please don’t let me think.” Her voice is hardly more than a whimper.

“I’ve got you, Princess.” He reattaches his lips to hers almost as soon as the words leave his mouth, dropping his hands to underneath her thighs so that he can lift her without breaking their lips apart, carrying her up the stairs and into his bedroom, only breaking the kiss to lay her softly on to the bed. He’s quick to pull her top over her head and discard it onto the bedroom floor, leaning his head down to kiss his way slowly across her collar bone and up the side of her neck, stopping to suck a bruise into her pulse point, a place that is always sure to elicit a moan from her throat. He soothes the skin with his tongue before lifting his mouth to her ear, whispering to her in a low voice, “I promise you won’t even be able to remember your name by the time we’re finished.” 

The sex is different to how it’s been before – driven by emotions rather than just lust. There’s none of the usual teasing and flirting, only Clarke trusting him fully to look after her, completely relying on him. He knows what she needs, and pushes and pulls her to the edge again and again until she can hardly form a sentence, only able to call out his name like a mantra as he sends her flying high whilst simultaneously grounding her to him. It doesn’t escape his notice that this is possibly the first time since she was a child that Clarke has let herself be fully vulnerable around him, and the fact that she so clearly trusts him sets a possessive fire burning deep within him that he never wants to extinguish. Even when it’s finished and Clarke is so sated that she’s on the verge of sleep he can’t let go of her. He still can’t define exactly what they are, but after today he’s sure he’s in deeper than he thought he was. 

Clarke doesn’t cope well in the aftermath of Abby’s visit. He has to go to work the next day, and worries excessively when she doesn’t respond to his text messages. When he gets home, she’s still in bed where he left her, and he’s honestly not sure if she’s moved from it at all. She definitely hasn’t eaten, and he knows that because he left her breakfast downstairs that hasn’t been touched. 

He hasn’t seen her like this in a long time, and it hurts him in a completely different way then it used to. He wants so desperately to be able take the pain that she’s feeling away, but he knows that he can’t so he just looks after her as best as he can. He makes sure she eats when he’s home and keeps her talking about anything and everything and when the words run out, he holds her and makes sure that she knows she isn’t alone. That no matter what her mother does or doesn’t do she’ll always have him.

On the fourth day after Abby’s visit, he comes home to find Clarke sitting at the table, engrossed in a half-finished painting in front of her. She’s eaten half of the breakfast he left for her and she’s had a shower and changed clothes and she smiles at him when he walks into the room and he thinks she might be coming out of the other side.

The next day he comes home and she’s not there at all. He automatically panics until he remembers that she’s an adult with her own life and her own friends but it’s still strange for her not to be there. It’s been a while since he’s been home alone. It turns out she’s gone to see some friends from school, and she would probably be staying with them tonight. He doesn’t see her for the next three days. She keeps him updated though, sending him pictures of parties and drunk texts and things that he’s sure are meant to prove to him that she’s completely fine and that he doesn’t need to worry but all he can see is Clarke falling back on old coping mechanisms that they both knew were no good for her, and avoiding him is another thing she can do to ignore that truth. 

Even when he does finally see her, it’s not of her own accord. 

A call wakes him up in the middle of the night, and he is completely confused when he sees the caller ID. “Murphy?”

“Hi, Bell. I’m sorry for calling you this late but I’m out in town with Emori and that Clarke girl is here? And she’s not sure where her friends are and I don’t particularly want to leave her here on her own and-“

Bellamy’s already halfway to the front door, “Thanks for calling, I’ll leave now. Where actually are you?”

“Just outside the Dropship at the moment, we’ll keep her here.” Murphy replies.

“Thanks man, I shouldn’t be long.”

“No problem, wait a second,” Murphy stops talking and it sounds like he’s moving somewhere, like he doesn’t want someone to hear what he says next, which is confirmed by the hushed voice he next speaks in, “I feel like I should tell you that she’s definitely on something, she’s been taking very regular bathroom breaks all night and she is clearly not just drunk. Also, she offered Emori some when I was at the bar. I mean she seems okay but maybe keep an eye on her when you get her home.”

Bellamy sighs, “Thanks for telling me, I’ll be there soon.”

When he pulls up opposite the bar, Clarke, Murphy and Emori are leaning against the wall with cigarettes in their hands. They’re laughing and Clarke looks so happy that he’s finding it really hard to remember to be mad at her. She notices the car, waves her goodbyes and clambers into the passenger seat. He understands what Murphy means about Clarke being on something, her movements are over-animated and she hardly stops talking the entire car ride home. She’s smiling and giggly and excited and Bellamy hates that she needs drugs to be like this.

He assumes that they’ll be heading straight to bed (and to sleep) once they return to the house, and Clarke is going along with that plan until they actually get into bed, at which point she can’t seem to keep her hands to herself. It’s fine at first. Clarke has this lovely habit of trailing her fingers over his skin in intricate patterns that he loves but he knows he has to put a stop to it when her fingers begin to creep lower.

“Princess, we need to sleep.” He states firmly, putting his hand over hers to stop it from travelling any further.

“I’m not tired.” Clarke whines, shuffling closer to him so that she’s leaning her head against his chest.

Bellamy can’t stop himself from running his fingers through her hair softly, “You will be soon.”

“Well I’m not now. Now, I’m awake and horny.” Clarke retorts petulantly. 

“That’s lovely to know Princess, but I am neither of those things.” That’s a lie. As soon as Clarke started touching him, he was slightly turned on, but he really is too tired to do anything right now, and besides, she isn’t sober.

“But Bell,” She whines, pouting at him in a way that she knows he usually can’t resist, “It’s been ages since we’ve fucked.”

“It’s been a few days.” He returns dryly.

“Exactly. Ages.” Clarke sulks.

“Well who’s fault is that?” The words come out a lot more meanly than he’d meant them to, and Clarke pulls herself away from his skin like it’s burnt her. She rolls over so her back is facing him, and scoots away so she’s at the edge of the mattress and as far away from as she can be without actually getting out of bed. He thinks she’s more tired than she’s letting on.

“I’m sorry, Clarke,” He exhales, extending his arm to trail a finger down her arm, intertwining his fingers with her own when he reaches her hand, “I know it’s been a hard week. I promise I’m not mad at you for anything, I’m just really tired.”

She doesn’t say anything, but she lets her body relax and shifts back towards him, settling down under his arm with no more complaints. Bellamy leans closer to her, presses a chaste kiss to the back of her shoulder, and falls asleep within minutes.

The next morning Bellamy wakes up to the smell of bacon, he wants to say cooking but honestly it smells a lot more like burning. The bed next to him is cold, so Clarke must have left it a little while ago. It’s surprising that she’s up before him, and more surprising that she left him alone in the bed instead of waking him up. It hadn’t taken long after he began sleeping with Clarke for him to find out that she likes orgasms in the morning.

The burning smell seems to be getting stronger, and he figures that it’s time to head downstairs and make sure his kitchen isn’t on fire. Clarke doesn’t realise he’s standing in the doorway watching her at first, she’s too busy clattering around the kitchen attempting to salvage whatever it had been she was trying to make. He ignores his instincts to step in and take over, instead choosing to watch in amusement as she attacked a pan that seemingly had bacon in it. Well, it was funny until she literally stuck her hand in the pan to try and, well he wasn’t really sure what she was trying to do but what she did achieve was a clearly very painful burn to the side of her hand.

She curses at the same time as he leaps towards her, grabbing her hand in his own and inspecting it before she even has a chance to look at the damage. “Why would you think that sticking your hand into a hot pan is a good idea?” He chastises as he pulls her hand towards the sink, turning the cold tap on and shoving it underneath the flow of water. 

“I was trying to get the bacon off the bottom,” She retorts, wincing slightly at the feeling of the cold water against the burn, “How long were you watching and not helping anyway?”

“Not that long. Have you ever actually cooked anything on your own ever?” He was partly teasing and partly seriously wanted to know. Whenever she was here, he had always cooked for her. He doesn’t think he’s ever tried anything that Clarke has made on her own. 

“Of course, I have.” She responds, but something in her voice means that he doesn’t quite believe her.

“Like what?” He baits at her.

“I can make mac n cheese.” She offers, still not looking as proud of herself as she normally does when she trumps him

“Out the packet?”

“It still counts.” Clarke pouts, pulling her hand out of his grip.

“Sure, it does.” Bellamy teases, dropping a quick kiss on to the crown of her head. He leaves Clarke alone at the sink to go and inspect the pan. The bacon is blackened around the edges and has somehow fused itself to the bottom of the pan. He has no clue how she’s managed it.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone fail at cooking bacon this spectacularly before.” He taunts, grinning at her in a way that he knows winds her up.

She scoffs at him, rolling her eyes, “Well I’m sorry for trying to do something nice, Mr. I’m-So-Perfect-At-Everything-Ever. I know I’ve been pretty shit this week.”

He abandons the pan on the stove, knowing it’s going to take a hell of a lot of scrubbing to get clean and he can’t really be bothered for that right now. Instead he heads back towards Clarke, wrapping his arms around her waist as he stands behind her and rests his head on her shoulder, “I appreciate the sentiment,” he places a soft kiss on her jaw, “and you’ve not been shit. How’s your hand feeling?”

She ignores the question about her hand, “I have been shit though, Bellamy. I refused to get out of bed for three days and then I disappeared on you for three days and had you woken up in the middle of the night to come and fetch me, which you didn’t have to do. You’re allowed to be pissed at me.”

Bellamy frowns as she tenses up beneath him, “I’m not pissed at you, Clarke. I know when you do this you’re just trying to cope, and yes I do get pissed at your shitty coping mechanisms because we both know that they’re bad for you but I don’t know how I’m supposed to be angry with you when I know that you’re hurting.” He’s not lying, he’s never angry at Clarke, only at the things she feels like she needs to do.

“You’re too good, Bell. So many other people wouldn’t put up with my shit.” Clarke sighs, pulling her hand out of the water to have a look at it.

“Well I’m not other people,” He replies, also looking at her hand. It doesn’t look too bad, and he’s sure it will heal on its own, but he needs to double-check, “Your hand, how’s it feeling?”

“Better now.”

“Good,” He switches off the water and spins Clarke around, so that she’s facing him, intertwining his fingers with the ones on her uninjured hand, “You want me to be honest with you? Fine. You need to learn how to allow yourself to feel negative things. You don’t have to escape them. It’s okay for you to be sad or angry or confused or depressed, you don’t need to hide those feelings. There are other ways to cope with them that aren’t alcohol or drugs or whatever the hell you feel like you need to do to chase them away.” He speaks softly.

“Keep going.”

“I think you’ve got a lot of things to work through, and therapy would help you a lot with that, but I also know that you don’t feel ready for that yet, and the last thing I want to do is push you into doing something you don’t want to and making you feel worse. I want you to remember that you can trust me, that nothing you do or say is going to push me away, because when you run away from me as part of you coping, all that implies to me is that you don’t trust me enough to help.” It crosses Bellamy’s mind that this is the first time he’s voiced these fears to Clarke, too frightened to find out what it means if she doesn’t trust him.

“I do trust you Bell, I promise I do.” Clarke maintains eye contact as she speaks, squeezing his hand as she does so.

“I know, but you need to show that to me sometimes. You could at least try to talk to me about how you’re feeling and what you’re wanting to do, because then I’ll at least have a better idea of how I can help you.” Bellamy squeezes her hand back.

Clarke nods, seemingly thinking about her next words before she says them, “I think my mom might kick me out, or cut me off, or both. I spoke to her again the other day, figured I should try once more to get her to understand, but she’s not having any of it. Today is the last day of Marcus’ offer, so I’m expecting some kind of official confirmation soon.”

Bellamy sighs, he had been thinking about Abby’s parting words to Clarke all week, and hoping that they were just a bluff. Clarke clearly doesn’t think they are. 

“Do you have any of your own money, or does it all come from your mom?” He asks.

“I have the inheritance that Dad left me, I don’t know exactly how much it is but I should be able to access it if I need it. Other than that, my mom usually just deposits however much into my account a month and that’s that,” She pauses for a moment, “But if she stops then I’ll need an income from somewhere else. I’m going to need to get a job. How do I get a job? And if she kicks me out then I need somewhere to live, and then I need to worry about rent and bills and-”

Bellamy can see Clarke beginning to spiral, and he interrupts before she can get too far, “You can live here.”

Clarke’s face shows that she isn’t too sure about the idea, “Bell-“

“You practically live here anyway, and you have done for like ten years. It makes sense. The only difference will be is that you’ll finally have all your stuff here. For official purposes Octavia’s old room can be officially yours, even if you don’t use it much. There’s no point in you paying rent somewhere else if you’ll hardly ever be there.” Bellamy reasons.

“I guess that is true, “Clarke murmurs, “But I’ll need to pay rent, Bell. I don’t want to be living here and scrounging off you all the time.”

“I’m sure we can figure something out, Princess,” He leans forward and presses a soft kiss to her lips, “Or should I say roomie?”

Clarke giggles, and leans in for another kiss, “Only if she actually kicks me out. Who knows, maybe she’ll grow a heart.”

As it turns out, Abby does grow a heart, or she at least sees some kind of sense and realises that making her only child homeless may not reflect too well on her. She does, however, tell Clarke that she would no longer be depositing any money in her bank accounts and that she’ll need to start paying rent, meaning that her only options were to either use up her dad’s inheritance or find a job.

Clarke chooses the latter option, and somehow manages to find the perfect job for herself at a café-cum-art-gallery, which, on the surface is just a slightly hipster café but it also holds regular exhibitions to display the work of local artists. Clarke loves it there and Bellamy loves seeing her thriving, even if it does mean that she spends a lot of her evenings completely exhausted after being on her feet all day.

Life settles down into a calm routine. Whenever they both have free time, Bellamy and Clarke are usually together, although they still haven’t chosen to define their relationship, there still doesn’t seem much point when they’re both so happy as they are. Clarke still goes out with her friends and smokes and has bad days sometimes but compared to how they were before, they are few and far between and it makes him so proud to see how much effort she’s putting into looking after herself.

Octavia’s coming home for thanksgiving, and Bellamy is so excited to see her again. He’s been on random day trips to visit her since she’s moved out, and spent countless nights on phone calls and skype to her but it’s the first time she’s coming home and he can’t wait to have her here. The only, slight issue, was that she still had no idea what he and Clarke had been doing, and neither of them were particularly inclined to tell her yet in fear of her reaction. It might have been stupid, but they hadn’t told anyone. They should be allowed to be private if they wanted to be.

That was why they had spent the last couple of days attempting to erase any proof of the two of them having spent any time together, apart from general friendship. In fact, by the time Octavia has messaged to say she’s leaving the city and is on her way to the house, Bellamy is pretty confident that there is nothing she could find to arouse her suspicions. One thing he didn’t count on, however, was exactly how hard it would be to stay away from Clarke for a few days. 

They’ve been almost inseparable for months now, and Bellamy can’t count the number of times he’s wanted to act in a completely non-platonic way around Clarke before remembering that his sister is in the room with them. He can tell Clarke is struggling with it too. He hadn’t realised quite how tactile they actually were until they couldn’t be, but now he could see that when they were alone, they were always touching. It would be anything, holding hands, a head resting on a shoulder or a hand settled on a thigh and right now it was almost impossible to keep any physical distance between them. 

The second night that Octavia stays, Clarke sneaks into his room and they get each other off, not wanting to risk actually fucking and being too loud. As quiet as she tries to be, Bellamy still needs to keep his hand firmly planted over Clarke’s mouth to keep her quiet while he makes her cum with three fingers buried inside of her.

The next day Clarke apparently decides that it’s her mission to make him suffer. She sends him all kinds of messages throughout the day, beginning with relatively harmless stuff like ‘Your arms look really good in that shirt’ and ‘I’m desperate to kiss you’ but they quickly get dirtier. By the time the three of them are settled in the living room, watching some stupid rom-com that Octavia picked, she sends ‘right now I’m thinking about you tying me up and getting me off again and again until I’m begging you to stop’ and he has to take himself away to have a very cold shower. Clarke just smirks at him as he leaves, and he can’t quite decide whether he’s been cursed or if he’s the luckiest man on the planet.

They are granted a reprieve the next day when Octavia announces that she’s going to meet up with some friends from school and that she’ll be gone for a few hours. Bellamy is sitting on the couch, pretending to be interested on something on his phone while Octavia and Clarke laugh about something near the door. His phone is already discarded as Octavia yells her goodbyes. She’s hardly out of the house before Bellamy is on Clarke, one hand gripping her waist and the other tangling itself in her hair as he pushes her towards the closest wall, lips on hers in a heated embrace. She groans as he pulls away, biting down on her bottom lip just enough to hurt, just how she likes it.

“Fuck, Bell, it’s been so hard to keep my hands off you.” She whines.

“How do you think I feel, Princess? All those messages you were sending me yesterday? Thought I was going to lose it.” He growls out, tugging at her hair and biting hi way down her neck. Nothing hard enough to leave a bruise though, they couldn’t be that careless now.

“Oh really?” She asks innocently, choking out a moan as he nips a particularly sensitive part of her neck “I thought you’d like them.”

He doesn’t dignify that with a response, just reattaches his lips to hers and focuses on kissing her, caught up in the relief of not having to hold back.

He really shouldn’t have been.

“What the fuck.” Octavia’s voice bursts through the room, and he and Clarke automatically jump apart from each other like they’ve been caught doing something they shouldn’t be. In a way, they have. Neither of them had heard her come back in. Bellamy could kick himself when he sees her purse sitting on the table. He should have noticed she’d forgotten it.

No one says anything for a moment. They’re standing in a triangle, all looking between each other. Clarke looks slightly terrified, and Octavia looks angry, and hurt.

He attempts to break the silence, “Okay, O, this obviously wasn’t how we wanted you to find out.”

His little sister scoffs, narrowing her eyes at him and glaring, “Obviously.”

“This doesn’t change anything, O.” Bellamy is trying to find the right words to say but his brain doesn’t seem to be working. He glances helplessly at Clarke, who is keeping her eyes firmly on the ground in the corner of the room.

“Like hell it doesn’t, Bellamy! How can you even try and say that my brother and my best friend being together doesn’t change anything?” Octavia spits, “How serious is it? How long has this been going on?” She says ‘this’ with a disgusted look on her face.

Neither Bellamy or Clarke speak, but that tells Octavia more than enough.

“A long time then. Fucking great.” She snarls, running a stressed hand through her hair, “A month, two? Since I moved out? Or before that? How long have you both been lying to me?” Her voice is beginning to border on hysterical.

“It started about a month after you moved out.” Bellamy finally answered, the least he could do right now was be honest.

“So you’ve only been lying to me for a few months, nice.” He understands why she’s angry. Octavia doesn’t like not knowing things, and this is a big thing for her to not know, she just needs to work through the first bout of anger and then hopefully they can talk properly, “And how serious is it? Are you officially dating, or just having sex or-“

“That doesn’t matter, O.”

“Of course, it matters, Bell!” Octavia all but shrieks.

“Fine then,” He looks at Clarke. They still haven’t talked about what they are, just that they’re important to each other. She gives him a small nod, “It’s serious, O. We’re serious.” That was going to have to be enough for now.

Octavia doesn’t visibly respond to that, and instead turns her attention on to Clarke, voice taking on a much more vindictive tone, “What do you have to say for yourself, best friend? You’ve kept yourself quiet over there.”

Clarke’s voice cracks as she speaks, and Bellamy can tell she’s trying to keep herself calm from the way her fingernails are clenched into her palms, “I’m sorry, O. We – I never wanted to hurt you.”

Octavia rolls her eyes, “Well maybe you should have thought about that before you went after my brother. We both know he would never have made the first move. You seem to have forgotten that I know you, Clarke. I know the things you’ve done to people, the ways you’ve hurt them.”

“I’m not going to hurt him, O.” Clarke responds, sounding almost disgusted that Octavia could even think that.

“You might not want to hurt him, but you will Clarke, it’s what you do. You hurt people. Even if you don’t mean to, you do.” Octavia sneers, and Bellamy can’t help but cast his mind back to the only other big fight he’s seen the girls have, almost two years ago now. Back then it was about Atom, and now it’s about him.

“That’s enough, O.” Bellamy interrupts before she can go any further. However angry she is, he won’t let her stand there and say awful things to Clarke. Not again.

“You’re right. It is enough. I need to get out of here.” Octavia spits out, storming up the stairs and leaving a shellshocked Bellamy and Clarke alone to consider exactly what the fuck they were going to do. She returns back downstairs a few minutes later with her bag, clearly hastily packed as she stomps around the house, picking up anything she’s left lying around.

“Where are you going, O?” Bellamy asks softly, reaching out to grab her arm but she just rips it from his light grasp.

“Home.”

“You don’t need to leave. We can stay and talk about things; we need to talk through this.” Bellamy tries again. Octavia has never been this angry at him before, and he doesn’t quite know how to cope with it.

Octavia spins to face him, glowering at him, “You didn’t want to talk before, and as far as I’m concerned there’s nothing to talk about anyway. When things go wrong, and they will, I don’t want either of you to come crying to me about it.” She hisses out the final words, marches out the front door and slams it behind her.

Bellamy and Clarke just stand there, listening to the sound of her getting into her car, slamming the door shut behind her, and then driving away.

Bellamy takes a deep breath, trying to wrap his head around exactly what had happened, but the only thought he could fully focus on was that his little sister was angrier that he’d ever seen her before, and it was his fault. He doesn’t notice Clarke moving towards him, but he does realise when she slips her hand into his, pulling him towards the couch to sit down. Neither of them speak straight away, but he does flip her hand over in his and look at the crescent shaped nail marks now indented in her palms. He runs his thumb over them softly, and when he looks up at her face again her eyes are shiny with unshed tears.

Clarke takes a deep breath, clearly attempting to steady her voice before she talks, “It’s okay if you want to stop this.”

“Stop what?”

Clarke sighs, wiping a tear away from the corner of her eye before it even has time to fall, “This. Us. She’s your sister. She loves you. She’ll forgive you if we end this now.”

Bellamy feels like the airs been sucked out of his lungs at the idea of ending whatever he and Clarke have. It’s at that moment he realises he doesn’t know what he’d do if he didn’t have her here.

He shakes his head, moving his hand to cup her face and rub away another tear as it creeps down her cheek.

“I definitely don’t want to end it, Clarke. Yes, she’s my sister and I love her, but I love you too. You’re just as important to me as she is. I’m not letting this end just because Octavia doesn’t like it, we just need to prove to her that she doesn't need to worry about either of us.” Bellamy surprises himself with how steady and confident he sounds when internally he feels anything but.

Clarke pauses for a moment before she responds, voice quiet and barely more than a whisper, “You love me?”

He nods, and feels warmth spread through him at the small smile that appears on her face. He says it again, just because he can. “I love you, Clarke.”

Clarke doesn’t say anything in response. She doesn’t tell him that she loves him, but he wasn’t expecting her to. The way she leans into his chest and wraps her arms around him so tightly that he debates teasing her about crushing his lungs tells him everything he needs to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are gonna get ROUGH next chapter oof.  
> Please give me feedback it sustains me  
> Also if anyone wants to chat or whatever by tumblr is fadingskyy (it's not the 100 based it's just pretty much anything I like and loads of random shit) but I could do with people to talk shit about the 100 specifically with because currently I have no one.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know I'm a liar but this chapter was getting long again and I felt really bad for how long it's been since I've updated so I've decided to post this first. The next chapter really really will be the last one.  
> I'm also going to pop a tw in the end notes, it's nothing that isn't in the tags but I just want to be sure.  
> Also this chapter is like half fluff and then half angst so

Octavia’s anger doesn’t thaw for a long time. She refuses to come home for Christmas, electing to spend it with her new friends in the city (and also telling Bellamy on a rare phone call that she would ‘rather claw her own eyes out than have to see him and Clarke together’). She mostly answers messages from him and Clarke with blunt one-word replies, and will only speak to them on the phone if it’s completely necessary. It was safe to say that things weren’t going well on the Octavia front.

Things on the Bellamy and Clarke relationship front, however, were the opposite. Christmas had been hard without Octavia there, but he and Clarke had spent the day together. It was the first Christmas she had actually spent away from Abby. However rocky their relationship had been before, Abby had always insisted that Clarke was at home on Christmas day, but this year she had announced that she was going on holiday and Clarke could do whatever she wanted. Despite his attempts to get Clarke to learn to cook since the bacon incident, her cooking skills had not improved at all which had left him to do most of the cooking. Everything had been perfect, if he said so himself, apart from the potatoes which had ended up a little on the charred side, but that was entirely Clarke’s fault. She had tried to insist that it wasn’t down to her, but what had she expected him to do when she had dropped to her knees and looked up at him with those wide blue eyes and a smirk on her face as she reached for his belt buckle? Push her away and keep focused on the food? No, the potatoes were definitely Clarke’s fault.

He meets up with Murphy and Miller a few days after Christmas for their annual holiday drinks. They’re sat in a bar, beers in hand and discussing their plans for Murphy’s new years party. It’s an event he holds every year, and Bellamy hasn’t missed one yet but he wants to be able to kiss Clarke when the new year starts, he just isn’t quite sure how to bring it up to his friends. In the end, he doesn’t have to, they bring it up themselves.

“Are you bringing your girlfriend on New Years Eve?” Murphy asks from across the table, face as expressionless as ever.

“Girlfriend?” Bellamy responds slowly, unsure what to say.

“Yeah, Girlfriend. Blonde chick, about as tall as your shoulder, pretty much lives with you, that one.” Murphy responds dryly.

Bellamy doesn’t say a word. He hadn’t ever specifically told his friends that he and Clarke were together, not because he hadn’t wanted to but because he wasn’t sure what they’d think.

“Oh, come on Blake. Are you really going to try and pretend that you’re not with Clarke? I haven’t seen you as chilled out as you’ve been over these past few months for ages, actually, ever. You spend even more time at home than you used to, and there’s one person who’s in that home with you. Add to that the fact that Octavia is still really mad at you about something and you’re somehow not freaking out about it? There’s only one answer – you’re dating her best friend.” Miller speaks like what he’s saying is the most obvious thing in the world. When he puts it like that, maybe it is.

“And don’t think I’ve forgotten that night where me and Emori ended up at the bar with her and you came running in the middle of the night to get her. It’s almost disgusting how whipped for her you are.” Murphy pipes up smugly.

Bellamy rolls his eyes. “Fine. Me and Clarke are dating. Happy now?”

“Incredibly,” Miller smiles, reaching out to give him a congratulatory clap on the shoulder, “Thought we’d never get those words to come out your mouth.” 

Bellamy pauses for a moment, “And you’re both fine with it?”

“Well, yeah, shouldn’t we be?” Murphy speaks, looking at Miller with an expression on his face that screamed ‘I told you so’. Bellamy isn’t really sure why.

“No. I mean yes – I mean,” Bellamy takes a deep breath, “You don’t think it’s weird that I’m older? And that I’ve known her like her whole life? You don’t think that makes me a creep?”

“Miller, didn’t I tell you he wasn’t telling us because he was questioning his moral character,” Murphy drawls, rolling his eyes, “No, you are not a creep Bellamy.”

“It’s not weird Bell. You’ve always cared about her and you’re allowed to do what makes both of you happy.” Miller’s words are definitely more comforting to hear.

“It definitely doesn’t look like I’m a manipulative dick or anything?” Bellamy needs to double check, just to be sure.

“No, if anything she’s manipulating you.” Murphy snorts.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bellamy narrows his eyes at Murphy.

“Bell, she has you wrapped around her little finger. You are the definition of whipped. That girl could probably try and end the world and you’d still run after her and try and fix everything for her.” Murphy raises an eyebrow at him, as if he’s daring him to try and say that it wasn’t true.

“What Murphy means,” Miller smartly interjects, “is that it is obvious to anyone who has seen you together for more than ten seconds exactly how much you care about her. You’re not doing anything wrong.”

Bellamy hadn’t realised exactly how stressed he’d been about what his friends thought about him and Clarke together until he knew that they were happy for him, at which point a weight he hadn’t known he was carrying had been lifted from his shoulders. The people that were closest to him (apart from Octavia, obviously) had no issues with him and Clarke being together, and it wasn’t like he’d needed their blessing, but it certainly helped.

Bellamy and Clarke were becoming nothing short of domestic, and he loved it. Murphy had been right when he said that Clarke pretty much lived with him, which was nothing new but since they’d made their relationship official it had felt different; more stable. He no longer actively worried about waking up one morning or coming home from work to find out that Clarke had disappeared with no explanation, mainly because they were both paying enough attention to her mental state that they made sure it never got that far. She would tell him when she begun to feel bad and he’d support her through it however she needed, and she was there for him on his bad days and they were really getting stronger and stronger as a team. He’d even begun to let himself start thinking about the future with her, a very far-off future consisting of officially living together and weddings and babies that he knew would not be happening for quite a few years but still, sometimes he couldn’t help himself from getting carried away.

Clarke had begun looking at colleges for next year, colleges that she actually wanted to go to where she could study what she chose. Abby had reluctantly agreed to fund Clarke’s degree, accepting the fact that if she didn’t, then Clarke would likely not get a degree at all and the only thing worse for Abby than her daughter getting a degree in art was her daughter getting no degree whatsoever. Bellamy hadn’t told Clarke this yet, but he was also looking into the colleges as well. He had always kept the idea of going to college as a mature student in the back of his mind, and the timing had never been righter than it was now. He had money saved up, his disinterest in his job at the publishing company was growing exponentially and he could be close to the woman he loved, but like he said, it was only an idea right now, and he didn’t want to do or say anything that would influence Clarke’s decision just yet.

Bellamy’s birthday fell in mid-March and, so far, for lack of a better word, it had been shit. He’d woken up late, so had to rush out of the house to go to work without being able to spend any time with Clarke, and he’d somehow been roped into working overtime. One positive had been that Octavia had called him on his lunch break, and they’d had a real discussion. Her anger had begun to dissipate over the past few months, and whilst she still hadn’t seen either of them, it seemed like she was beginning to accept that he and Clarke weren’t going anywhere, and she no longer ignored them both. There was still a lot to go until they were how they used to be, but they were getting closer to it, and that was what mattered.

Still, by the time he finally made it back to his house after working all day, all he wants is nothing more than to cuddle up with Clarke and spend the evening watching some crappy movies.

She gives him a much better evening than that, of course.

The first thing he notices when he walks into the house is that something smells good, really good. He follows the smell into the kitchen, which is where he gets his first treat. Clarke has set the dining table up with a fancy tablecloth and candles and flowers and it looks every bit ready for the perfect romantic meal. Clarke herself is stirring something in a pan on the hob, which, whilst an impressive feat in itself, is nothing compared to the dress she’ wearing. It’s white and lacy and skin tight and it clings to her curves just right and even though he can only see it from the back right now, he isn’t sure if she’s ever looked more beautiful. He slips his suit jacket off, hanging it over the back of one the seats and loosens his tie before standing behind Clarke; wrapping his arms around her waist and leaning his chin against her shoulder. 

“You look gorgeous, Princess.” Bellamy murmurs, dropping a soft kiss to the base of her neck.

Clarke giggles, slapping his arm lightly but also shifting her head so that more of her neck is available to him. He accepts the invitation and continues placing soft kisses along her neck. “Stop trying to distract me from dinner, Bell. Aren’t you proud of me for not burning the kitchen down?”

Bellamy smiles into her neck, “So proud, Baby,” he moves one of his hands to pick up the Italian takeaway menu on the kitchen counter, and teases, “It’s almost like you didn’t actually cook this yourself.”

Clarke huffs, but it turns into a moan partway through as Bellamy reattaches his lips to the base of her neck and softly sucks a bruise into it. “Bell,” she chastises, “Even if I didn’t make it myself, I’m still trying very hard to heat it up and not burn it so if you could let me focus that would be lovely.”

“Sorry, Princess, I just can’t help it when you’re dressed up so pretty for me.” Bellamy doesn’t sound sorry in the slightest.

“Who says I’m dressed up for you?” Clarke teases.

Bellamy lets out a breathy laugh, stepping away from the blonde, “Well in that case you won’t mind if I just go away then.”

“Bellamy!” She whines, “Stop being difficult and just sit down at the table so I can give you your birthday dinner!”

“Okay, Princess, I’m sorry.” He concedes with a smile, setting himself down into the seat facing Clarke. When she finally turns around the dress looks just as good from the front. It has a plunging neckline which makes her tits look divine, and he can see some faint bruises left over the top of them that he’d given her a few days ago. Nothing turns him on quite like seeing the marks he’s left on her, and she knows it.

The food is lovely, and dessert turns out to be a slice of fancy cake that Clarke puts one candle in. She places it down in front of him and then slips herself on to his lap, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and placing a kiss on his cheek, “Make a wish.”

He wishes that he and Clarke can be this happy forever.

She doesn’t ask what he wished for, instead teases, “I was going to put twenty-five candles on but there wasn’t enough space, I guess that’s what happens when you’re old.”

He slaps her thigh lightly, “Brat! Twenty-five is not that old.”

“If you say so.” She says in a sing-song voice, leaning in to kiss him again. She pulls away just when he’s beginning to get worked up, and slips off his lap.

“Time for your presents now.” She reaches out her hand and pulls him up off the chair.

“Clarke! I told you I didn’t want anything!” 

She rolls her eyes, “Yeah, well I got you stuff anyway, now come on!”

Bellamy lets her pull him to the living room, where there are a few presents piled up on the sofa, definitely more than he’d been expecting. They’re all perfect, of course. She gets him a series of history books he’d had his eye on for a while, some new shirts she said he would look ‘really fucking fit’ in, and a few other smaller things. The best thing, however, was definitely the painting. It was a recreation of his favourite picture of the two of them, which had been taken on new years eve by Emori. Neither of them had any idea it was being taken, both of them a bit drunk and cuddled up on the sofa, looking at each other like they were the only things that mattered in the world.

Clarke blushes when he opens that one, “I hope you like it. I know it’s not perfect but I had to do it back at home cause I didn’t want you to see it before your birthday and I didn’t have as much time as I wanted to do it and-“

“I love it Clarke,” He interrupts, pulling her closer to him, “I love you.”

She smiles at him, the real, soft smile that he never sees except when she’s looking at him, “You’ve got one more present, Bell.”

“Where?” He glances around the room, unable to see any unopened gifts.

Clarke rolls her eyes, grabbing one of the discarded bows from the other gifts and places it on her head. “I am clearly the present. Now unwrap me.”

Bellamy laughs, but also can’t deny the tug or arousal her words set off inside of him.

“That might just be the most cliché thing you’ve ever said, Princess,” He smirks, trailing a finger up her arm to the straps of the dress, “I don’t know though, I think this present looks really nice from the outside already.”

Clarke scoffs, “Trust me, if you like the outside so much, then you are really going to love what’s underneath. Now take my dress off.”

Bellamy doesn’t need telling again.

Things just keep getting better after his birthday. Octavia actually lets them both come and visit on her birthday, and although they purposefully keep any romantic interactions to a minimum, she doesn’t seem particularly angry or disgusted when she does see them holding hands, so that was definitely going to be classed as a win.

There had been a few weeks soon after his birthday that Bellamy had begun worrying about Clarke again. Her work seemed to be exhausting her a lot more than it normally did, and she didn’t seem to have energy to do anything other than sleep when she wasn’t there. She had begun to go out and get stupid drunk again but just when he was readying himself to have a proper discussion about it with her it seemed to pass and now things were more settled than ever.

“I’m proud of you, you know?” He tells her one night, when they’re wrapped around each other in bed.

“What for?” Clarke’s voice is soft, and happy, and he wants her to always sound like that but he also likes that it’s a voice that seems to be reserved just for him.

“For looking after yourself. I know you’ve been struggling a bit more recently but the way you handled it was amazing. You kept yourself going and didn’t let yourself fall back onto bad habits like you would have done this time six months ago.”

She didn’t respond, just blushed and hid her face in his chest. At the time it had been cute and endearing; a side-effect of her inability to properly accept compliments. In the future, when he looked back at that moment, he would be able to see it for what it was; guilt.

It was a few weeks after that conversation when he first realised something was wrong, well actually discovered would be a more accurate description, seeing as he had no clue until it happened.

It was a rare day that he finished work early, and he knew Clarke’s shift finished soon, so he figured he would he head to the coffee shop and surprise her with a lift home. There wasn’t too much of a queue when he got there, but he couldn’t see Clarke working behind the counter, so he figured she was working in the back somewhere. 

“What can I get you today?” The boy behind the counter asks.

“I’ll just have a hot chocolate please.” Bellamy replies, having another quick look around the café to see if he’d somehow missed Clarke anywhere.

“No problem, anything else?”

“No thanks. Is Clarke back there?”

“Clarke?” The boy, Jasper, his name tag says, looks confused.

“Yeah, I thought I’d pop in and say hi.”

“Sorry man, Clarke hasn’t worked here for like a month now.” Jasper shrugs.

“What?” That couldn’t be right. He dropped her off sometimes, she would literally come home from work and they’d tell each other about their days, she’d complain about her boss and customers.

“Yeah, we’re not supposed to talk about it but everyone’s pretty sure she got fired. Not sure what for though.” Jasper explains.

Bellamy pays for his drink and leaves the store in a daze. He can’t quite get his head round what he’s just been told. It has to some kind of mistake, surely? There’s no way Clarke has been fired, she would have told him, she told him everything now, didn’t she? 

The house is empty when he gets back. He discards his half drunken hot chocolate on to the coffee table as he settles down on to the couch, working through this new information in his head and trying to come up with some kind of explanation as to what could be going on. Perhaps she’d found a new job, that she didn’t want to tell him about for some reason, maybe because she’d been embarrassed about being fired? Or possibly working got too much for her and she quit, he had been thinking about how much more energy she seemed to have nowadays. It could all be some big coincidence, and actually there was another girl called Clarke who’d worked at the same place who’d been fired and his Clarke had just got her shifts mixed up and wasn’t working today. 

Bellamy lets out a dry snort at his ideas. They’re all stupid and he knows that. What is definitely true is that Clarke has been lying to him for the past month, about her job and what she spends her days doing. A sickening thought creeps into his head then, could she be cheating on him? That would explain why she’d want him to think she was somewhere else all the time. No. Clarke loves him. She’s happy with him. She wouldn’t do that to him. He just needed to calm down and wait for Clarke to come home. Then they could talk.

She walks into the door about an hour later, all sweetness and smiles.

“Hi, Bell!” She seems so happy, so normal. She’s wearing her work uniform. There are no obvious signs that she’s lying to him. He knows now that she is, though.

“Hey,” He doesn’t want to start accusing her of anything straight away, and he chooses his next words carefully, “How was work today?”

He’s praying for her to be honest, to tell him that she hadn’t been at work and hadn’t been for the past month. She isn’t. “It was exhausting! It was so busy all day, and then this one guy came in and he was so grumpy and…”

He can’t listen to her lie, he wonders for a moment how long she’s spent making up the stories that she’s been telling him over the past month, then he interrupts her.

“Clarke.”

“What?”

He doesn’t say anything, just grabs the half-drunk cup of hot chocolate sat on the coffee table and shoves it towards her. He keeps his eyes focused on her face as she processes the label on the side of the cup, sees the exact moment she realises what this means and where he’s been, watches the smile drop off her face as she looks back up at him with wide, anxious eyes.

“Bellamy,” Clarke’s voice shakes slightly as she says his name, “I can explain.”

“What? That you’ve been lying to me for the past month. This better be good, Clarke.” It’s when these words leave his mouth that he realises exactly how much he hates being lied to, and he feels a new shot of sympathy for his little sister finding out about them the way she did.

He can see the panic rising on her face and there are already tears shining in her eyes and Bellamy wants nothing more than to take Clarke into his arms and tell her that it’s all okay and he doesn’t care but he can’t do that because this is nowhere close to okay and he doesn’t understand at all.

“It was so hard, Bell. It was so hard and I was so bad at everything and I was exhausted and stressed all the time and I just kept fucking up and nothing was going right. I tried so hard not to be the pathetic rich girl who can’t work hard, and I tried so much but everything was too much and-“

“None of that tells me why you were fired, or why you lied to me.” He cuts her off again, unable to let her make any more excuses.

“They didn’t tell you why?” It almost looks like Clarke’s holding her breath while she waits for his response to her question.

Bellamy shakes his head, and he swore he could have seen a flash of relief in Clarke’s eyes but only for a moment.

“I just, wasn’t good at the job. I fucked up orders all the time, could never do anything quickly enough, I had shit customer service skills,” Clarke lists, “It just wasn’t working out.”

“Okay,” Bellamy is in no way convinced that’s the entire story, but he thinks it may be partly the truth. There’s still a lot more that he needs to know. “Why didn’t you tell me? If you were struggling that much you should have talked to me, and especially when you got fired. What have you even been doing?”

“I didn’t want to disappoint you. You keep going on and on about how proud you are of me, and, it’s nice and everything, but it’s hard to let you know if I’m not doing well, sometimes, it feels like I’m letting you down.” Clarke explains, not meeting his eye at all, “I’ve been spending days at home, mostly. If you were dropping me off, I might hang around in town for a bit. I swear I’ve been applying for other jobs. I was hoping I could get one and then it would be easier to tell you but…it’s taken longer than I thought it would.”

Bellamy’s torn. Part of him wants to keep pushing – he’s sure there’s still something else that Clarke isn’t telling him. On the other hand, part of this had happened because he’d put too much pressure on her, that’s what she’d been saying in a roundabout way. She didn’t want to hurt him by letting him know that she wasn’t doing as well as he thought. His brain was still spinning; she had lied so much and he had no idea – he doesn’t know what to do.

His decision is made when he sees the first tear slip out of her eye. She wipes it away quickly but he had never been able to just sit there and watch someone cry, especially not Clarke.

“Come here.” He pulls her towards his chest, letting her bury her head against him as she takes deep, shuddering breaths.

“I’m sorry,” She chokes out, tightening her arm around his waist, “I’m sorry I lied.”

“I know you are,” He responds softly, rubbing one hand soothingly up and down her back, “But you’ve got to be honest with me, okay? You know this is only going to work if we’re both honest with each other. Is there anything else you want to talk about?”

The way her body tenses up slightly screams to him that the answer is yes, but the words that come out of her mouth are, “No, that’s everything.”

He lets it go for now, dropping a kiss onto her forehead. Perhaps he’s just reading too much into things, and the last thing he wants to do is fight.

He definitely begins to keep a closer eye on her though, wanting to make sure he never misses anything again, and the more he observes, the more convinced he becomes that something is going on, he just doesn’t know what.

He almost feels like it’s two years ago and he has no clue what Clarke’s going to do next. She’s irritable, and her mood seems to swing between lethargic and energetic almost constantly. Some days she can’t seem to leave him alone and others she wants nothing to do with him. She’ll spend most of the day in bed, exhausted, and then come bounding down the stairs begging him to go out somewhere. He can’t work it out.

He’s beginning to think that he might need to bring up Clarke going to see a therapist. It’s never been her favourite idea, and he’d thought she’d been getting better without one but right now it feels like she’s just moving backwards. She still hasn’t found another job despite her insistence that she’s trying, and that means she’s having to dip into her inheritance to pay rent to her mother.

Bellamy is trying to work out how to bring it up to her when he walks into the door that day. He’d finished early again, and Clarke hadn’t messaged him today so he had no idea what kind of mood she’d be in, or if she’d even be at the house.

She is. He can hear her music playing from the living room, although he discovers that she isn’t in there as he walks in to see the table covered in paints and a half-finished painting of some beautifully detailed flowers. 

He’s admiring her skill when he see’s it, just sitting on the table next to the painting, and everything falls into place.

All of her recent behaviour is explained by the tiny plastic bag filled with white powder.

Well, it’s almost empty, actually.

Bellamy feels his heart crack in his chest.

He should have known; should have seen this coming. He knew something had been going on, but this? This was worse than he’d been expecting. The hopeful part of his brain jumps to the conclusion that this could all be a coincidence, that this is just a one-time thing and there’s another explanation for what’s been going on. There isn’t though. He knows there isn’t.

The only reason he knows about this now is because Clarke clearly had no idea he was coming home early. God. How had he let this happen? He’s seen her on this stuff however many times before, he knew how it made her act; how had he not made the link to her energetic bursts and subsequent lows before? How had he been so blind that he couldn’t simply see them for what they were – highs and comedowns, maybe even withdrawal symptoms.

He’s so caught up in thinking about all the obvious signs he’s missed that he hardly hears the back door opening, the sound of footsteps walking towards the living room and then stopping when they see him by the table

“Bellamy.” Clarke says his name slowly, deliberately. She smells like the cigarettes he thought she’d stopped smoking.

He doesn’t respond, he doesn’t know how. He’s upset and angry and confused and fucking terrified because things are so much worse than he thought they were and he can’t make them better anymore.

“Bell,” Clarke tries again, voice rising a pitch, “It’s not what it looks like.”

Bellamy scoffs, “Stop it, Clarke. Just stop. I’m tired of the lies.”

“I’m not lying.” She sounds like she’s trying to convince herself just as much as she’s trying to convince him.

Bellamy keeps his voice surprisingly steady. “Please, just for once, be honest.” He grabs the bag and holds it up between his thumb and forefinger, “This is why you got fired, isn’t it?”

Clarke nods, slowly, eyes desperately trying to gage what he’s going to do next.

“I knew it. I knew there was something you weren’t telling me.” Bellamy runs a stressed hand through his hair. Clarke steps towards him but he takes a step away. He can’t be close to her right now.

“I’m sorry I lied. I know I shouldn’t have but – God it was embarrassing! I was trying so hard to be good at a fucking simple job and I just couldn’t do it. I was always so tired and it was so hard to get through the day and I needed something. It helped.” That’s when it started then. Months ago. After his birthday.

“You promised me that you weren’t lying to me anymore – you said there was nothing else you needed to tell me,” Bellamy heaved in a breath, trying to keep his emotions under control, he couldn’t let them go, not now, “You let me believe that it was me helping you, Clarke. I thought we were working together, that we were a team.”

“We were – we are! I swear Bellamy, I don’t know what I’d be doing right now if I didn’t have you.” Clarke steps towards him again, but he sees the way her eyes are trained on the bag he holds between his fingers rather than on him.

“Then why would you turn to drugs instead of turning to me? Why would you let me think that everything was okay when it so clearly isn’t?” He hears his voice crack, hears the hurt shining through his words. He doesn’t care.

“It’s not as bad as you think it is, Bell. It’s only when I feel really bad and I need something.” She looks up at him finally, her eyes betraying exactly how much she doesn’t believe her own words.

“And how often do you feel ‘really bad’, Clarke?” Bellamy sneers.

She doesn’t answer, eyes dropping to look at the ground.

“All the time? You would because that’s what this shit does.” He spits the words out, “It fucks with your brain and the chemicals until you need it be okay.”

“It’s not like that-“

“Then what’s it like, Clarke?” He takes another step away from her, fighting the urge to reach out and punch the closest wall, “Please enlighten me because the way I see it is that you’ve got yourself hooked on this stuff and if you had your way, I wouldn’t have known until I came home one day to find you dead on the floor.”

Clarke takes a deep breath, keeping herself calm. It’s strange. It’s so often that their roles have been reversed but right now Bellamy is struggling to keep control and Clarke seems stable. She speaks slowly. “It’s not going to kill me, Bell.” 

“It will, Clarke,” He shoots out through gritted teeth, “It’s fucking with your body and your brain and all it will take is a bit too much or one bad batch and then you’re gone.”

“You’re acting like I’m some kind of addict!” Finally, Clarke seems to be unravelling too, unable to maintain her calm persona.

“You are an addict!” Bellamy hurls, his voice louder and angrier than he meant it to be. Clarke physically flinches at the words, and the sight of that pulls him off whatever precipice he was just teetering on. His anger seems to dissipate all at once, instead just being replaced with hurt and devastation. He takes a few deep breaths, relaxes his shoulders, and unclenches his fists.

“I’m not!” Clarke tries to insist, desperation beginning to creep into the edge of her voice “I just…” She trails off – there’s nothing she can say and they both know it.

“Okay.” Bellamy keeps his breathing deep, “If you’re not an addict then you’ll have absolutely no issue with me getting rid of this shit and you never touching the stuff again. You’ll be able to get on with your life as normal and go out and get a job and not even think about drugs.”

He see’s the fear rising in her face at the concept of not being able to take anymore. She darts forward and rips the bag out of his hand, seemingly surprising herself with her own actions, but she visibly relaxes now that she has it safe in her own grasp. She looks down to the drugs, and then back up at him, knowing that nothing she does will change his mind.

“You need help, Clarke. Professional help.” He softens his voice, and it’s his turn to step towards her. He reaches out a hand to the side of her face, pushing some loose strands of hair behind her ear as she automatically leans her jaw into his palm.

“No,” She shakes her head as much as she can while he’s holding her face, “I can sort this out. Please, Bell, give me a chance.”

“Not on your own you can’t. Not this time.” His voice is defeated.

“I won’t be on my own, I’ll have you.” Her voice is hopeful.

He can’t meet her eyes. She notices.  
“I have you, right, Bell? You said I’d always have you. No matter what.” There’s an edge of hysteria creeping into her voice. She takes another step towards him. Her hand is still clenching the drugs like they’re her lifeline.

“I meant it – I mean it. God, Clarke, I want nothing more than to be able to make all of this go away but I can’t. It’s gone too far. I can’t help you.” Bellamy murmurs, still running his thumb over her jaw.

“What are you saying?” Clarke’s voice cracks.

“I’m saying that I can’t be around you while you’re on that stuff. I can’t sit by and watch you slowly kill yourself. Not anymore.” Bellamy’s words are strong, as much as he is hurting inside, he knows he has to do this.

Clarke steps away, knocking his hand away from her face. He wants to throw up. A wave of sick realisation washes over her features.

“You’re breaking up with me.” Her voice is smaller than he thinks he’s ever heard it, and his heart breaks even more knowing that it’s because of him, “You said you loved me.”

“I do. I love you so fucking much Clarke but all you’ve done for months is lie to me and hurt yourself and I hardly noticed. What if the next time I don’t notice it’s too late and you’re already dead?” Bellamy speaks earnestly.

“That won’t happen.” Clarke almost whines.

“It will, Clarke.” He lets his gaze drop to her hand and her own eyes follow his, “If you don’t stop taking that stuff, it will.”

“I won’t let it get that bad.” They both know her words are empty.

“It already is that bad.” Bellamy sighs, “The fact that you need it more than you need me should be proof enough.” 

He feels selfish saying those words, but it’s the truth, isn’t it? She’s willing to let him go because she can’t let the drugs go, she won’t even try.

“I need you, Bellamy.” Clarke’s voice is breaking, but so is he.

“And I’ll be waiting, Clarke. As soon as you agree to get some professional help, I’ll be with you every step of the way, but I can’t watch you hurt yourself until then. I won’t.” Bellamy almost chokes on the words as they leave his mouth. His entire being is screaming at him to backtrack and beg her to stay where he can look after her. He needs her just as much as she needs him, probably even more and letting her leave is the hardest thing he’s ever done, but he has to do it; he can’t keep her safe anymore.

She doesn’t cry, which is strange, because Clarke has always been a crier. She just grabs some of her stuff and leaves; doesn’t try to make him change his mind - doesn’t even say goodbye.

He wants to throw up, every possible reason that he’s just made a massive mistake is racing through his mind and all he wants to do is chase after her and bring her home. He knows he can’t. He knows that if he lets Clarke come back now that nothing will get better. She’ll still be sick and as much as he tried to help her, she would do whatever she wanted, like she always has.

He does his best to distract himself by giving the house a much-needed clean, and when that doesn’t take up enough time he goes out for a run. He needs to be so tired that he can fall into his bed and pass out without thinking about the fact he’s on his own; that he doesn’t have Clarke lying in his arms. 

She’s been gone for a matter of hours and he misses her so much already. 

What would he do if she didn’t come back? What if she never wanted to get better? What if all he’s done is fucked her over even more and pushed her towards something dangerous?

No. He had done this for her, not because he wanted to. She had to see that she couldn’t keep going the way she was and expect everything to stay the same. He hadn’t pretended that he didn’t care about her, and Clarke hadn’t acted like she was angry at him – hurt and confused, definitely – but not angry. Still, he’s surprised when he receives a message from her that night.

‘I’m sorry, Bell. I swear I’m going to do better. Goodnight. I love you.’

He’s not going to ignore it.

‘I love you too, Princess. Sleep well.’

He receives a few more messages over the following days. Clarke never really tells him anything substantial, it’s just ‘good morning’ or ‘good night’ or a meme or anything to let him know that she’s okay, and he always replies, and that way she knows that he’s okay too. The two of them have seen and spoken to each other every day for so long now that he knows he wouldn’t be coping with the separation half as well as he was if he just cut off all contact.

He’s also very aware that the fact that Clarke is still staying away from him means that she’s still taking the drugs, or at least hasn’t yet accepted that she does need proper help. It’s got to be a good sign though - that she still wants to talk to him – doesn’t it? Surely that means that she understands why he reacted the way he did, and therefore that his actions make sense to her. Clarke’s smart, so if she understands his point of view, then it can’t be too long now until she accepts it herself.

Maybe he’s being way too optimistic, but he honestly feels confident that Clarke will be back within the week and that they can begin to sort out everything they’ll need to help her get better. Yes, it will be hard work but they’ll be in it together and that’s all that matters – the two of them can get through this; he’s sure of it.

That confidence crumbles when Clarke stops texting. When the first day passes with no messages, he isn’t too worried, but when he wakes up the next morning and there’s still no messages the concern begins to creep in. He isn’t going to let himself get carried away, chances are that there is no problem whatsoever and she just forgot to message, and that’s fine. 

He sends a good morning text this time, just to remind her that he’s still here for her.

When she hasn’t responded by that evening his concern is definitely leaning more towards panic. It’s been almost a full forty-eight hours since he last heard from her, and so many things can happen in two days. 

He calls her. The phone rings out. No answer, and it’s not cut off. It just rings.

He looks at her social media accounts, and when he sees that there’s been nothing new posted on them for days he begins trawling through her friend’s profiles, desperately hoping to see a new picture of her. There’s nothing. He messages a couple of the ones she sees regularly. None of them have heard from her. 

Bellamy’s beginning to feel sick, nausea solidifying itself in his gut, twisting and screaming at him that something is wrong – really wrong.

He calls Octavia. She does pick up.

“Bellamy?” His sister sounds confused. Despite the undeniable improvement in their relationship over recent months, they still weren’t quite at the stage of random phone calls about nothing important. 

“O.” Bellamy doesn’t know where to begin, doesn’t know how to even start to explain what’s been going on and how much he’s fucked up to his little sister. He doesn’t need to though.

“It’s Clarke, isn’t it?”

He spills everything. How he thought everything had been going really well and that he was so caught up in how happy he was that he hadn’t noticed Clarke lying to him; and how even when he knew things weren’t okay he had just let them keep going on, watched her struggle and shut him out and act so fucking erratically that he knew something bad was happening but he just let it happen anyway. That she’d been relying on drugs for goddamn months because he put too much pressure on her to be better, and now things were out of control and she had a major problem and right now he has no fucking idea where she is and he knows that he needs to find her but he’s panicking so much that he can hardly fucking breathe.

“Bellamy,” Octavia’s voice is strong, grounding, “I’m going to come home, cause clearly things are a mess right now, but you need to keep your head straight. If Clarke is in trouble, then she’s going to need you. However much I don’t like it, she loves you and you love her, and whatever shit she’s got herself into, it will be you that gets her out of it. It always has been.”

Octavia sounds confident and soothing and mature all at once and he wonders for a moment when his little sister grew up.

“You can’t blame yourself for any of this, Bellamy. Clarke makes her own choices, and she knows exactly what she’s doing when she wants to self-destruct, and before you get pissy, that’s not me blaming her either, we all know she’s needed help for a long time now. Have you actually been to her house yet, to check if she’s there?” Octavia continues.

“No.”

“Why not?”

That’s a big question, one which drags out all of his insecurities and fears and leaves them displayed for anyone that hears the answer. He takes a deep breath and answers it anyway. “If she’s there and safe, then she’s been ignoring my texts and my calls and she doesn’t want me. If she isn’t there then she’s really gone and literally anything could have happened to her, and it will be my fault, because she needed me and I made her leave.”

“Bellamy, I really hope you know that every part of that response was so fundamentally incorrect and whilst right now I do not have time break down every reason why, I am going to say this; it is not a physical possibility for Clarke not to want you, she may have some convoluted reasons for not speaking to you but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t want you, and you cannot blame yourself for anything that is happening. You did what was best for you and what you thought was best for her, and that is the best thing you can do.” She pauses for a moment, allowing Bellamy to absorb the words she just said, “Now, go to Clarke’s house and find out if she’s there. I’m going to leave soon and I’ll be home in a couple of hours, but call me when you can, okay?”

“Okay, O. I love you.”

“I love you too big brother.”

Abby’s car is in the driveway when Bellamy gets to Clarke’s house, which means it could be time for a conversation he really doesn’t want to have.

He rings the doorbell, and Abby opens the door. She clearly isn’t expecting to see him.

“Bellamy, hello.” She plasters on a fake smile when she sees him. He doesn’t bother.

“Hi, Abby. Is Clarke here?” He doesn’t know if he wants her to realise just how desperate he is right now.

“No. I assumed she was with you.” Abby’s words are blasé, she certainly isn’t worried.

“When was the last time you saw her?” Bellamy continues.

“It must have been a couple of days ago. She stormed out, as usual.” Abby rolls her eyes.

Bellamy processes the words. Clarke left the house a few days ago after an argument, and no one has seen or heard from her since. She got upset and then dropped off the face of the earth.

“Have you had any contact with her at all, a phone call or a text or anything?” He’s doesn’t care if she knows how desperate he is.

“Not a word, but you know that isn’t exactly abnormal for us,” Abby’s eyes narrow slightly, “What’s going on, Bellamy?”

“I- I don’t know where she is. No one’s heard from her for two days. I think we need to report her as missing.” He admits, voice shaking. He should have come her earlier.

“Two days isn’t that long. The fact that she spent multiple days here tells me that the two of you had some kind of argument, am I right?” Abby’s talking like she knows everything, like she has all the answers. She doesn’t.

Bellamy nods in response.

“Knowing my daughter’s immaturity, I wouldn’t put it past her to be doing this for attention. Trying to make everyone worry about her only to show up completely fine.” Abby has such a flawed view of her own child and it hurts Bellamy that Clarke had to grow up with her.

He wants to scream at her just how wrong she is, but he can’t. Instead he just tries to remain as calm as possible. “It’s not that simple, Abby.”

“It isn’t?”

“No.” He takes a deep breath, he has to tell her what’s going on, “Clarke has a drug problem.”

“What?” Those words do actually seem to floor Abby for a moment, until she gathers herself again and shakes her head slightly, “That can’t be right.”

“I’m sorry, but it’s true. I found out, and that’s why she’s been back here. I told her she couldn’t come home until she’d accepted that she needed help.” Bellamy hates saying those words, his guilt is clawing his way through his body. There must have been something else he could have done.

“I think I’d know if my own child had a drug problem, Bellamy.” Abby patronises him, and that really does piss him off.

“How would you know? You haven’t paid your daughter any attention for years now, so how would you know about anything going on in her life?” The words are out of his mouth before he can really think about them. He doesn’t have time for Abby’s narcissism right now.

“Excuse me?” She sounds affronted. He’s glad.

“Clarke has been struggling for years, and if you’d taken a moment to stop arguing with her and actually try and find out what was going on in her life it wouldn’t have been hard to work out. She might be your daughter, but I’ve been the one looking after her since Jake died.”

The silence is thick and heavy, the only sound coming from either of them appears to Bellamy’s heavy breathing. He forces himself to watch Abby’s face as it is overtaken by an expression that he can’t place – possibly anger? Or maybe hurt? He isn’t sure. He can’t read her like he can read Clarke. He’s half expecting to get kicked out of the house, or screamed at, but instead Abby just turns away and marches into the living room, calling over her shoulder for him to follow her.

“Have you called any hospitals?” Abby asks as she begins to type on her laptop.

“No. Why? If she was in hospital wouldn’t her emergency contact have been called?” Honestly, Bellamy had no idea where to start.

“Only if they could ID her, if she doesn’t have any form of identification on her then they wouldn’t be able to.” Abby speaks, detached in a way that makes it sound like she’s talking about a complete stranger rather than her only child.

“Are we going to call the police?” Bellamy almost feels like a child next to Abby right now. 

“Not yet. I know people on the force and I can ask for information before we make an official report. I’ll do that now actually, and you,” Abby turns her laptop towards him, showing a list of numbers for local hospitals, “begin calling those numbers.”

Bellamy does as he’s told, still completely unsure what to make of Abby’s reaction, or rather lack of one. She’s scarily calm, leaving the room to make the phone call and returning half an hour later to tell him that there hadn’t been any incidents with unknown blonde girls over the past couple of days but that her contact would keep an eye out. She then starts ringing the hospitals with him.

No one matching Clarke’s description is in any of them. Bellamy doesn’t know whether to be relieved or worried; he doesn’t want her to be hurt but if she was in hospital at least he’d know where she was. By the time they’ve finished the calls it’s getting late and Octavia is almost home so Abby orders him to go and get some sleep, promising she’ll call if she hears anything. Something about the way she’s speaking makes Bellamy think that she isn’t planning on getting any sleep herself, but Bellamy isn’t about to ask, especially when he’s not planning on going to bed anytime soon either.

Octavia is in the house by the time he gets back home, and having her wrapped in his arms soothes his racing mind a lot more than he was anticipating. She was at least one thing he didn’t fuck up too badly.

“I missed you so much, O,” Bellamy breathes into her hair, not willing to let go of her just yet, “I’m sorry that I hurt you.”

“I’m sorry too,” Octavia’s holding on to him just as tightly, “I didn’t want to be upset with you for that long. I just didn’t know how to not be angry.”

Neither of them says anything else for a while, they don’t need to. They just find comfort in being with each other for those few peaceful moments until his mind begins to drift back to Clarke and where the hell she could be. Octavia notices his change in demeanour, and untangles herself from his arms, knowing what it means.

“Right,” Octavia’s voice takes back on the same confident tone she spoke in on the phone, “I’m assuming we haven’t heard anything else about Clarke, what’s the plan?”

“I was planning on heading out to look for her in town soon, see if anyone’s seen her around the past couple of days. I called all the local hospitals with Abby so if she does end up there, we should hopefully hear about it quite quickly, but realistically she could be fucking anywhere.” Bellamy’s beginning to get worked up again, panic worming it’s way into his mind.

“Bell-“

“No one has seen or heard from her in two days, O. For all we know she’s left the fucking country or already dead somewhere.” He snaps.

“Or, for all we know she’s staying with some friends we don’t know and she’s lost her phone. Thinking about all the bad things that could have happened isn’t going to help get her back Bellamy.” Octavia remains calm, level-headed. 

“I know that O. I just – how did I let it get this far? I literally had one thing to do and that was to keep her safe and I couldn’t even do that.” He can feel himself beginning to break again. He doesn’t have time to.

“It’s not your fault,” Octavia repeats, “Now let’s go and find her.”

They drive around for hours, eyes peeled for any sight of Clarke. They ask bouncers in front of pubs and clubs but none of them have seen her – Octavia has been told about a couple of other parties happening so they go and check those out but there’s no sign of her there either. They keep looking until it’s the middle of the night and Bellamy’s fighting so hard to keep his eyes open that it’s probably not safe to drive anymore and a glance to his side at Octavia proves that she is just as tired as he is. 

They head home at that point, and despite how exhausted he is Bellamy’s sleep is fitful at best – waking up at the smallest of noises and periodically checking his phone to make sure he hadn’t missed any messages or calls even though he knows it’s on full volume. It’s pointless anyway; there are never any notifications.

He manages to get a few hours of uninterrupted sleep come the early hours of the morning, and is woken up by Octavia shaking him.

“Bellamy! Get up! Abby called.” She sounds worried.

It takes a few moments to remember why Abby must have phoned. He glances in confusion to where he left his phone right next to his head when he closed his eyes so that there was no way he wouldn’t hear it if it rang. 

Octavia rolls her eyes, “Yes, I snuck in and took your phone so you could sleep for longer; don’t think I don’t know that you got hardly any sleep last night. Anyway, Clarke’s been found.”

That wakes him up properly. He sits up, eyes suddenly alert and brain more focused than it has been in weeks. “Where is she?”

The expression on Octavia’s face is slightly apprehensive; he isn’t going to like what he hears.

“Tell me, O.”

“She’s in hospital – the one Abby works in actually. One of the doctors treating her recognised her so Abby got called quite quickly.”

“Is she okay? What happened? I need to see her.” Bellamy blurts out every one of his thoughts as he launches himself out of bed and grabs some clothes to change into.

Octavia swallows, “We don’t really know details yet. All Abby said was that she’s unconscious.”

She still didn’t answer the question he needs to know the answer to. He just looks at his sister, he doesn’t need to ask her again.

“She overdosed, Bell.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: lots of talk about drug addiction and then an overdose at the end of the chapter.
> 
> I've said it before and I'll say it again I love me some feedback so like,,,please say anything and I'll love you forever thx xoxo


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are! Finally at the final chapter! I'll say sorry for how long it took, but my laptop dying on me in the middle of this did not help. Thank you so much for reading and putting up with my inability to update regularly.
> 
> I hope you enjoy

Bellamy had almost forgotten how uncomfortable the chairs in hospital waiting rooms were. He shouldn’t have, considering how long he spent waiting for his mom on them when she was sick, but now those memories were back in full force. It was almost like he was eighteen again; spending hours and hours just waiting for her to come out of chemo or surgery or check-ups. He isn’t eighteen anymore though, and it isn’t his mom he’s waiting for.

He’s been here for about two hours now. Octavia has gone off in search of coffee and food, and Abby has been drifting in and out of the waiting room – heading off to get regular updates from the doctors that are treating Clarke. It’s one of the perks of having a powerful job in the hospital your daughter is being treated in for a drug overdose, he supposes; there isn’t anyone that can stop you from going wherever you want.

He still doesn’t know what happened, not really. Abby had been waiting for he and Octavia when they arrived, and she had explained that Clarke had been found unconscious in a shitty hotel room that she’d been staying in for the past few days, just across the other side of town. That had shaken Bellamy. She’d been so close to them, yet he hadn't been able to find her – to help her. Abby’s friend on the police force was having the security footage looked over to see if she’d been in and out or on her own the whole time. The excessive levels of drugs and alcohol in her system implied that she’d been having a massive party – they think it was unlikely she took that much on her own. If she did – well, that implied she’d done it on purpose and Bellamy could hardly bare to let that thought enter his head. 

According to Abby, Clarke was lucky that she’d been found when she was. She had missed her check out time, so the staff had gone to check the room. Bellamy couldn’t get the image he’d created of Clarke lying alone and half-dead in a dirty hotel room out of his head. Abby had explained to him what was happening to Clarke now – something about getting her stomach pumped and some kind of surgery to take some pressure off somewhere but he couldn’t focus on that information right now. He needed to see her; needed something physical and tangible to rid his brain of the ever-horrific images it was creating.

He glances down the corridor, looking for his little sister. She’s been gone for a little while, and it would be really good to have her back here, even if it’s just to distract him slightly. They’ve had a lot to catch up on, and there hasn’t been anything else to do over the past few hours.

There isn’t any sign of Octavia, but he does see Abby making her way towards him. She looks exhausted. He hasn’t seen her like this since Jake died. It must be bringing back just as many bad memories for her as it is for him. 

She sits down in the chair next to him, placing her elbows on her knees and raking her hands through her hair before straightening back up and turning to look at him.

“Clarke’s going to be okay. She’s out of surgery and stable. She should wake up in a few hours.” Abby speaks, voice rough. Bellamy feels his insides untwist at the words – a physical wave of relief washing over him that he has never felt anything close to before. He opens his mouth, but no words can accurately depict his emotions right now. He lets out a shaky breath and nods at her. 

He’s expecting the silence between them to remain, and Abby to head back off to wherever she’s been without too much fanfare, but to his surprise she keeps talking. “I’ve been thinking, about what you said when you came to the house yesterday,” She pauses, but Bellamy doesn’t say a word, he doesn’t regret what he said and he definitely won’t take it back, “I need to apologise.”

Bellamy tries not to let his shock show in his voice, instead keeping it stable as he responds, “It’s Clarke you need to apologise to, not me.”

“It’s both of you. I – it’s hard to remember how young you are, sometimes. You were always so mature, even before everything that happened with your mother,” Abby stops again, and takes another deep breath like she's about to admit something she doesn't want to, “Jake was always so much better at being a parent than I was – he was a natural and I found it so hard. When he died, I didn’t know what to do. You know that my relationship with Clarke was already a mess by then, and I had no clue how to go about fixing it. I didn’t even try, because she had you, and I thought you’d be able to a much better job than I ever could.”

“You’re her mother.” Bellamy doesn’t think he succeeds in keeping the disgust out of his voice, he doesn’t think he wanted to anyway.

“I know. I thought that – I don’t know what I thought. It felt like, as long as I made sure that she was achieving her potential in an educational sense, that was the most important thing. I could make sure she was having a good life that way, and it didn’t matter if she hated me, because she had you to fall back on for any emotional and personal needs.” Abby is speaking like Clarke is a patient, and Bellamy realises that Abby has always approached her relationship with her daughter in a way that is far too clinical, “I know now that wasn’t fair of me, to put that pressure on you. You were so young, and you already had Octavia to take care of, you shouldn’t have had to have that responsibility for Clarke as well.”

“I didn’t mind.” He's not lying – he didn’t mind at all. He doesn’t even want to think about the things that could have happened to Clarke if she hadn’t had him growing up – and considering the fact that she’s currently in a hospital bed after having an overdose - well, it could have been anything.

“I know, but it doesn’t make it better. I let myself get so detached that I had no idea what was happening right in front of me. I wish I could have done something different.” Abby laments.

“You can’t. You can’t change the fact that you haven’t been there for Clarke when she’s needed you - that you didn’t bother to notice how much pain she was in and instead put a gross amount of pressure on her. You can change how you act from now on though. I’m not saying she’ll ever forgive you, I really don’t know if she will, but you can try and earn it,” It feels good, hearing Abby actually be repentant for her actions, but he isn’t lying when he tells her that he doesn’t know if anything she ever does will be enough, “She’s an addict, Abby. She’s going to need rehab and therapy and things might go wrong again and again but if you really want to do better, you’ll be there for her through all of that. If you don’t think you can do that, you should leave, because the last thing she needs is you letting her down all over again.”

Abby pauses for a moment, and when she does speak there is no accusation in her voice, only acceptance, “How long have you been in love with her?”

Bellamy shrugs, he’s not about to hide his feelings, “I’m not sure, but she is the most important person to me, just as important as my sister, and I won’t let you hurt her again.”

“You can go into her room whenever you’re ready. She’ll want you there when she wakes up,” Abby tells him, finally lifting herself out of the chair, “And Bellamy. Thank you, for looking after her.”

Abby gives him directions to Clarke’s room before leaving, but Bellamy forces himself to wait for Octavia to return before he rushes off. It doesn’t take long, just a few minutes later she’s back with some shitty hospital coffee and pastries. He doesn’t think he’s ever been more grateful for caffeine in his life. He quickly relays what Abby told him about Clarke before they head off to find her room. They’re told by a nurse that there’s only one visitor allowed in the room at the moment, so Bellamy obviously goes first, promising Octavia that he’ll try not to be too long.

The first thing Bellamy can think when he sees Clarke is that she looks peaceful, lying in the hospital bed on her back with her arms at her sides and eyes shut. She doesn’t look like she almost died, but he knows that she did and he’ll never be able to forget it. Bellamy lowers himself into the chair by the side of the bed.

“Hey.” He speaks softly. Her eyes don’t even flicker. Abby had said it would take her a few hours to come round – he isn’t expecting her to wake up just yet.

He reaches out a hand to hold hers. It’s warm. He’s not sure why but in his mind her hands were going to be freezing to touch – but they’re not - they’re warm and alive. Her fingers don’t move at all as he slips his own between them.

“Clarke,” he begins, but his voice cracks before he’s even finished her name, “Princess, I’m so fucking pissed at you, you know that? I don’t think I’ve ever felt so helpless in my life. You can’t do this again, okay? I can’t feel like this again. I love you so much that I don’t know what to do with myself and I think about you not knowing just how important you are to me and I don’t know what to do with myself. I’m sorry that I let you down. I won’t do that again – I swear.”

He’s saying whatever comes to mind, she can’t hear him, but he needs to get the words out before he explodes.

“I’m going to be by your side, whatever happens when you wake up. Whether it was on purpose or not – I almost lost you and I will do everything I can to make sure that never happens again. Whatever you need, I’ll be here for you and I’ll never stop. We’re going to be happy; you hear me? We’re going to be happy and healthy and make people sick with how much we love each other, okay? We’ll walk down the street holding hands and smiling and kissing and we’ll cuddle all the fucking time and if you could hear me right now you’d be laughing and calling me a sap or a fucking idiot and you’d be doing everything you could to get me to shut up but I don’t care because what I’m saying is true.”

He laughs at himself a little.

“I promise, we will get through this and you will be okay. There isn’t any other option.”

He stops talking then - there isn’t much else to say, he just sits in the silence, holding her hand and hoping that she somehow knows that he’s there.

He waits outside while Octavia sits with Clarke – drumming his fingers repetitively on his leg as he waits for her to come back out. He knows that Octavia is just as worried about Clarke as he is, but it still doesn’t make the fact that he isn’t with her even though she needs him any easier to swallow. He doesn’t know how he’s ever going to let Clarke out of his sight again.

When Octavia does leave the room, Bellamy is sure that she’s been crying. He doesn’t say anything – he knows that she wouldn’t want him to. Instead he just hugs her and does his bet to reassure her – “Abby said she’d be okay. She’ll be awake soon.”

Octavia heads home to shower and get some sleep – making Bellamy promise to call her as soon as Clarke wakes up – and Bellamy heads back to the chair beside the bed and waits. He isn’t leaving this hospital room again until Clarke asks him to. He won’t leave her alone again.

It takes a few hours, and he’s half asleep when he hears it, but finally Clarke groans out. Bellamy immediately jolts upright from where his head had been resting on his arms on the bed, and his breath catches in his throat as her eyes flutter open. He can see the confusion and fear in them – he doesn’t want her to be scared.

“Clarke, it’s okay, you’re okay.” He attempts to soothe her, running his thumb along her wrist in the hopes it will make her feel better.

“Bell,” Clarke’s voice is croaky, and her eyebrows furrow in confusion as she takes in the room she is currently in, “I don’t –“ 

She doesn’t finish the sentence, instead attempting to push herself up so she is in a sitting position. Bellamy immediately reaches out to help, rearranging her pillows so she can lean against them before pulling the blanket back over her, and then pushing her hair back behind her ears where it had fallen in front of her eyes. He’s fussing, he knows he is but she’s awake and he deserves this – he’s allowed to fuss as much as he wants. She looks at him, eyes as wide and blue as ever, brows still furrowed as she attempts to understand what’s happened.

Finally, she speaks again, “Is there any water?”

“Yeah, yeah of course,” Bellamy’s out of his chair straight away, leaning across to the jug of water on the cabinet by the bed and pouring her out a cup, “Here you go.” He passes it to her, and her hands shake slightly as she lifts it to her lips. He’s never seen her look this frail before. Clarke and frail aren’t words that go together.

She has a few sips, choosing to twist her body to place the cup on the cabinet on her own rather than passing it into his waiting hand. He doesn’t know if it means anything. Neither of them says anything else just yet, so he drops his hand down to where Clarke’s is resting over the blanket. She turns it over so that they can twist their fingers together.

“Do you remember what happened?” Bellamy finally asks.

Clarke struggles with her answer. “I – I don’t know,” She pauses, swallowing and taking a deep breath before continuing, “No, I do know – I overdosed, didn’t I?”

“Yeah.” He confirms, not sure if it’s him or her that’s tightening the grip they have on each other’s hands.

“How long have I been in hospital?” Clarke asks next, voice still so hoarse that it sounds almost painful.

“You were bought in this morning, about ten hours ago now. You were found in your hotel room; you were late checking out.” Bellamy replies, eyes focused on her face to see what her reaction is, but there doesn’t appear to be any large response.

“Oh.” Her spoken response is no different.

“Clarke. I need to ask – I have to know – was it on purpose – did you try to…” Bellamy’s voice gets stuck in his throat; he can’t even get the words out of his mouth. He doesn’t need to anyway; Clarke knows what he means.

“No!” Clarke’s eyes widen as she shakes her head firmly, “I didn’t – no – I don’t think so. I don’t really remember much. Everything’s all jumbled up. It doesn’t make sense.”

“We can talk through it if you want – try and work out where everything fits.” He offers, but it’s as much for himself as it is for her. He needs to know what happened to her over the past few days.

“Yeah,” Clarke nods, “That’s a good idea.”

“So, I know you’d been staying at your mom’s after you left home, and about three days ago you left there after an argument.” Bellamy begins, hoping it will prompt her to keep going.

“That’s right. I couldn’t go to you, and I didn’t want to go to anyone else, so I went to a hotel. I was just gonna stay a couple of days. I thought it would be good for me to get some space, some time just for me. I – I’d decided that I was going to finish what I had left, and then I was going to go back home, back to you. I turned my phone off, because whenever I looked at it, I just wanted to call you, to hear your voice.” Clarke admits, bottom lip held beneath her teeth as she tries to recount the events of the recent days.

Bellamy nods, although he wants to scream out that he wishes she had. She doesn’t need that now, ad either does he. Dwelling on moments that can’t be changed now won’t do either of them any good.

“I think I stayed in the hotel for a while, probably a day? I definitely slept there, but then I ran out of food or I got bored or – I don’t know – I was high for most of it. Anyway, I went to the shop to get something to eat – and I bumped into some people I recognised, or they recognised me? I can’t – I know I knew them somehow but I don’t,” Clarke shakes her head, as if trying to clear her memories of metaphorical fog, “I don’t know their names, I just know I knew them, and they said they were heading to a party that night, and invited me, so I went.”

She’s squeezing his hand even tighter now, eyes tightly shut as she tries to remember what happens next. “The party – I don’t know what happened. I was off it – there are these flashes of people and moments but nothing makes sense, Bell. I don’t know if I remember anything clearly – I don’t know what I took or what I did. There’s a whole day after that too, and I know I stayed with some people after the party but I don’t know who and I don’t think I even remember being in the hotel again but I must have been if they found me there and – oh god – I can’t – I can’t – what did I do?”

She’s panicking, breaths growing rapidly heavier, shoulders beginning to heave. 

“Clarke, Princess, look at me,” Bellamy lifts his hands to the sides of her face, holding it so she has to face at him, “Breathe. It’s okay. You’re okay. I’m here and you’re safe. That’s it, breathe with me.”

Clarke does as he says, letting him help to calm her just like he always has done. 

“I’m sorry Bellamy. I’m so sorry.” She chokes out, tears spilling from the corners of her eyes.

“I know. We’re gonna get you better. You’ll be okay.” Bellamy holds her just as he has so many times before, until her breaths are even and her tears have stopped. He keeps holding her afterwards, both of them finding comfort in the familiar warmth of each other. He doesn’t ever want to let go, but he knows he has to. A nurse will need to check her over now that she’s awake, and he needs to call Octavia and Abby will surely want to see her soon.

He tells her this, at which point she untangles herself from his arms and looks up at him with an apprehensive expression. 

“They were both here?” Clarke’s voice is still gravelly, and her eyes are still red.

Bellamy nods.

“Do they both,” Clarke pauses for a moment, as if searching for the right word, “Know?”

Bellamy nods again, there’s no point in lying to her – he just hopes it doesn’t make her feel worse. “I had to tell someone, Clarke. You’d disappeared and I couldn’t deal with that on my own. I called Octavia and she came down, and I went to your house, to see if you were there and your mom was home, and I had to tell her, I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. I just…are they angry?” She sounds so small, so scared of upsetting her mom and best friend – terrified of being in trouble. Bellamy just wants to protect her from everything forever.

“No, well I don’t think so at least. Octavia’s been worried, and your mom – I’m not sure about your mom honestly. I’ve never seen her like this, not even after your dad died. As soon as she realised how serious it was that you were gone, she did a lot to try and find you, and she’s been keeping a really close eye on everything that was happening to you here. She even apologised to me for putting so much responsibility on to me when I was younger, and she says she wants to try and make things up to you. I’m not saying you have to do anything, if you don’t want to see her then I’ll tell her exactly that and that’s perfectly okay. I’ve already told her that I won’t let her hurt you again, but I think that she does want to try and make things better, to be a better parent.” Bellamy explains, lacing his fingers back between Clarke’s while he speaks.

Clarke ponders on his words for a moment before replying, “She apologised?”

“She did. The literal words ‘I’m sorry’ came out of her mouth, it was quite impressive actually.” Bellamy laughs, seeing the opportunity to make Clarke smile and taking it.

Clarke doesn’t quite smile, but she does let out a weak snort of laughter, “I didn’t think she was capable,” any hint of a smile that had crept it’s way on to her face drops off suddenly, “I do want to see her, but what if it’s too much. What if I don’t know how to be anything other than hurt by her?”

“I won’t let that happen, I can stay close by and interrupt if things go wrong. I promise.”

They’re interrupted by a knock on the door and a nurse entering the room before Clarke can respond, and almost as soon as she’s finished her check up Abby appears in the doorway.

Bellamy keeps his word, hovering close enough to the door that he would be able to hear any raised voices. He also gives regular glances through the window, looking for any sign that things are going south. When Abby had first entered her daughter’s hospital room, she had been stiff and quiet. Neither of the two moved to hug the other – Abby had simply sat down on the chair by the bed and Bellamy had left them alone. 

Abby is in the room for a long time, and when she finally does leave it’s with red rimmed eyes and a tight-lipped smile.

“You should go and get some sleep.” Bellamy suggests. She can’t have got any more sleep than he has in the past day, she might have even got less than him. Despite that fact, Bellamy is still surprised when Abby nods. He hadn’t been expecting her to agree with him. 

“I will. The nurse will make her rounds again in a few hours. Chances are that Clarke will be kept in here overnight, but as long as everything keeps going will she’ll be discharged tomorrow morning. She says she wants to go back to yours when that does happen, until I find her a place in a rehab facility.” Abby responds, condensing whatever had just happened in that room into a couple of sentences.

“She agreed to that? Are you sure she means it?” Bellamy doesn’t want to question it, but Clarke has always been so against any professional help.

“She did,” Abby confirms with a nod of her head, “I know I haven’t been around enough, that I don’t know her as well as I should – but I know sick people in hospitals. She doesn’t want to come back here. Look after her Bellamy. Let me know if anything happens. I’ll keep you updated with what I find about facilities.”

Then she’s gone. Bellamy takes another look at Clarke through the window. She looks so tired and lost and alone. He really hopes that Abby is right – that Clarke really does want to get help – to get better and that she didn’t just say it to try and placate her mother. When he asks her about it, Clarke assures him that isn’t the reason, and that she truly does want to change. He just has to trust her.

Octavia arrives with about an hour left of visiting time, so he leaves the two of them to catch up, only popping in when they have to leave to hug Clarke goodbye and promise that he’ll be back in the morning. Clarke has her phone, it had been found in the hotel, so she can get in contact with him if she needs to but it doesn’t make Bellamy feel any better about leaving her on her own. The only good thing was that he’d hopefully be bringing her back home with him tomorrow, and this would be the last night he’d spend alone until she went to rehab.

Bellamy calls in sick to work the next day, and makes sure he gets to the hospital as soon as the visiting hours begin. Clarke is awake when he arrives, and whilst she seems more awake and with it and less in pain than she did the day before, she definitely isn’t any happier. It’s not that she isn’t happy to see him – Bellamy can tell she wants him there by the way her hand never leaves his own, but she isn’t talkative or smiley, rather being on edge and moody. He doesn’t blame her at all – he couldn’t imagine going through what she had in the past week – but he knows that it isn’t something she can just bounce back from. He still wishes there was something he could do to make her feel better though. Her mood doesn’t improve even when the nurse tells Clarke that she’s being discharged and that she can go home in a few hours.

Bellamy had been holding out hope that Clarke would feel better being back at home and not in the hospital – or would at least allow herself to relax slightly – but it doesn’t happen. If anything, she gets worse when she can’t even walk from the car to the front door without stumbling and needing help. 

Octavia is waiting for them at the house, but she can only stay for a couple more hours before she has to drive back to the city – she can’t get time off her apprenticeship to stay any longer. The guilt his sister feels about leaving is obvious for everyone to see, and Clarke – to her credit – obviously does her best to try and dispel that guilt. She feigns enthusiasm when Octavia suggests watching their favourite film – laughs and smiles at the places she’s supposed to but Bellamy knows it’s not real. 

Clarke’s pretence of being okay leaves as soon as Octavia does. It’s like whatever energy she did have was used up for his sister, and he’s been left with her burnt-out shell. She falls asleep for a few hours quite quickly – but doesn’t feel any better when she wakes up. Bellamy doesn’t know what he can do to make things better for her – but he tries anyway. He talks – telling her about anything and everything he can think of despite the fact that he will sometimes get a one-word response if he’s lucky. He brings her water and snacks where she is curled up on the sofa under piles of blankets, but she leaves them pretty much untouched – instead staring at the Netflix show playing on the TV with glassy, unfocused eyes.

There’s a lot of things that Bellamy is currently worried about – but getting Clarke to eat is definitely the highest priority right now. The nurse had given strict instructions for Clarke to rest and keep well hydrated and fed. The only thing they were currently succeeding on was the rest part, and even then, he didn’t think Clarke was feeling particularly well rested.

He decides to make her pancakes – because she loves them and he’s never seen her say no to them in his life. She doesn’t turn to face him when he enters the room, still just stares blankly at the TV screen. Bellamy stands in front of it and holds the plate out to her. She doesn’t take it.

“Clarke,” He tries to keep his voice soft, “Please eat something. You need to get your strength up. It will make you feel better. I made you pancakes.”

Clarke just shrugs. She won’t even look at him.

“Please, Clarke.” Bellamy tries again, noting the hint of desperation that appears in his voice. Hopefully Clarke will hear it too – he isn’t above begging to get her to eat right now.

“I don’t want it.” Clarke responds listlessly, still not looking at him. It’s more words in a row than she’s said in hours, so he supposes that could be seen as a good thing.

Bellamy won’t let it go though – he can’t. Clarke has to eat so that she can get better. “Whether you want it or not doesn’t matter,” he implores, “You need it, Clarke. You won’t begin to get better if you don’t eat.”

Clarke sighs, dragging herself into a more upright sitting position and forcefully shaking his hand off her arm when he tries to help. She finally looks at him, shooting a scathing glare in his direction, “I don’t care!” She’s clearly frustrated, “Why are you even here, Bellamy?”

Well, Bellamy can safely say that he hadn’t wanted to annoy her into talking to him, but this was the most emotion Clarke had shown since she’d first woken up in the hospital so it was better than nothing.

He keeps his voice stable when he responds, he isn’t planning on taking anything she says right now to heart, “I’m here because I love you, Clarke.”

“Well you shouldn’t.” She spits back.

Bellamy places the pancakes down on the table, recognising that Clarke was upset over a reason completely non-food related. “Why would you say that?” The idea of Bellamy not loving Clarke is so ridiculous he can barely imagine it.

“Because all I’ve ever done is lie to you and make your life difficult.” Clarke retorts.

“Bullshit.” There isn’t anything else Bellamy can say to that. It’s just stupid.

“No, it’s not!” Clarke cries out, “You deserve so much better than me. You deserve someone that you don’t have to spend all of your time worrying about. You deserve someone that’s as good as you are.”

“You are good.” Bellamy insists, “Please, Clarke. I know things are hard, but I swear to you that none of this has made me love you any less and nothing will.”

She scoffs, “I’m a bad person Bellamy. I’m selfish and weak and-“

“Stop!” He attempts to interrupt but Clarke keeps going, voice growing increasingly hysterical.

“No, not until you understand the truth! All I can think about right now is getting high! I’ve almost messaged my dealer about ten times already. I feel like shit and there’s only one thing that’s going to make me feel better and it isn’t you.”

It hurts to hear that, but Bellamy knows what Clarke’s doing now and he really should have realised it sooner. She’s trying to push him away – whether it’s so she has an excuse to leave or just because she really doesn’t think she deserves him he isn’t sure. It doesn’t really make a difference anyway, because it isn’t going to work. “If that’s what you really want, then why are you here?”

“What?” She wasn’t expecting him to say that, clearly.

“Answer the question, Clarke,” He continues, “If what you just said is true, then why haven’t you left the house yet? Why haven’t you messaged your dealer?”

She doesn’t answer. Bellamy crouches in front of her and takes her hands in his own.

“You’re still here because you want to get better,” He softens his voice, and hopes what he’s saying will be enough to comfort her, “You’re here because you’re strong enough to acknowledge that you need help and that things need to change. You’re not weak, or selfish, or any other disgusting thing you’re thinking about yourself. You’re strong, and powerful and yes, you are sick right now but you’re going to get better.”

Clarke lets out a shaky breath, “Why do you still have so much faith in me?” She sounds so sad again, Bellamy hates it.

He lifts his hand to her cheek, “Because I know you, and I love you, and you’ve already taken the first steps towards getting better. You asked your mom to look at rehab facilities, you’re voluntarily signing yourself into one, you want things to change. I have faith in you because I know you can do it.”

“I’m sorry.” Clarke’s voice shakes, but she seems to accept what he says, and for now that’s good enough.

“I know,” Bellamy drops a soft kiss on to her forehead before standing up and grabbing the pancakes, “Now please, eat something.”

The next two days don’t get easier. Clarke’s withdrawal symptoms only get worse – she’s nauseous and feverish and he hasn’t seen her this depressed in a long time. He just wants her to be happy but instead she’s spending all of her time feeling awful and crying and there is nothing Bellamy can do to make her feel better. He just holds her when she wants him, gives her space when she doesn’t and makes sure she’s eating and drinking enough. 

Bellamy holds her hair and rubs her back as she retches over the toilet seat and does his best to reassure her when she gets stuck in a cycle of self-hatred and desperation and cravings. The mental pain she’s under is so much worse to see than anything physical she’s going through. She’ll sob for hours until she physically can’t cry anymore, asking him over and over again why he’s even with her and begging him to just let her go out and get what she needs then berating herself for being so weak and disgusting until he finally manages to calm her down – only for the cravings to kick in again a few hours later and the cycle to restart.

Bellamy had known it was going to be hard, but he hadn’t realised exactly how much it would kill him inside to have to do this. He isn’t sure he would have been able to do it on his own, without the knowledge that Clarke would be going somewhere that really could help her. He hates the idea of her being anywhere away from him, but after seeing her struggle these past few days, there’s no doubt in his mind that - when Abby finds Clarke a place in a very expensive rehab facility which specialises in young people with addiction issues – it’s exactly where she needs to be. It doesn’t make it any easier to leave her there though. 

It’s a three-hour drive away, and both Bellamy and Abby go with Clarke to get her checked in. Clarke is silent for the entire drive, curled up in the back of the car, wearing his hoodie with her headphones in and eyes shut. Bellamy hopes she’s asleep – she still seems to be permanently exhausted – she needs all the rest she can get. 

From the outside the Mount Weather Rehabilitation Facility looks something like a mix between a fancy house and a hospital. The front gardens are full of gorgeous flowers and the building is made from a warm brick that all in all looks incredibly inviting, but as soon as he looks a bit closer he can see the hi-tech security system on the door and the large gates that surround the facility and he’s pretty sure he can see security guards walking around the perimeter. This isn’t a place Clarke will be able to just walk out from if she doesn’t like it.

Clarke herself seems to come to the same conclusion at around the same time. She still doesn’t say anything, but she does slot her hand into his as they begin to walk up to the main doors. The staff are clearly expecting Clarke’s arrival, and waste no time in ushering them into a room. They show Clarke some contracts she has to sign saying that she consents to all kinds of treatments, that they have the right to go through her private property if they suspect anything and most importantly, that she can’t leave before the end of her treatment unless they deem that she is well enough. They explain that they’ll take her phone and all devices she can access the internet on and she’ll have a certain amount of supervised time on them a week, and Bellamy can feel Clarke tensing up beside him as all this information is thrown at her. He’s half expecting her to refuse at the last moment and demand to be taken home, but she just takes a deep breath and signs the contract. As soon as the papers are signed, her bags are whisked away to be searched for contraband, her phone is taken and they are left alone to say their goodbyes.

The farewell shared between Abby and Clarke is efficient, to put it mildly. The two share a brief, tense hug that looks more suited to be shared by bitter enemies than a mother and her child, but Bellamy can see that both of them are trying harder than they have in years, and it’s a big moment for both of them. Then Abby leaves he and Clarke alone, and Clarke finally cracks.

She wraps her arms around his torso and buries her head in his chest, and Bellamy hugs her back just as tightly. Clarke’s really going to be away from him for months and he won’t be able to just pick up the phone and call her whenever he wants to check on her or hear her voice. It’s almost impossible to even imagine it - but he knows that it is for the best.

When Clarke speaks her voice is muffled by his shirt, but he can still hear the apprehension in it, “I don’t know if I can do this, Bell.”

Bellamy sighs, he knows she’s just scared. If she really didn’t think she could do it, she wouldn’t have signed the contract. “You can, Clarke,” He assures her, “You’re strong, remember? You’ve got this.”

She shakes her head vehemently, “I can’t! I just want to go home; I don’t want to be here. Please, I can do it at home, with you. Not here.”

“Clarke, listen to me, look at me,” Clarke does as he says, stepping away just enough so that she can lift her face towards him, hands still clinging to his waist. Her bottom lip is quivering and her eyes are shiny. She’s on the edge of bursting into tears and it makes him want to do the exact same thing, “I know this is a big change, and it will be hard, but it’s going to be so worth it. Think about it, in a couple months you’ll be back home and it’ll be me and you together again. We could do anything – go on holiday, go to college, go travelling – whatever the hell we want.”

Clarke sniffles, but lets a small smile form on her lips, “Whatever the hell we want?”

“Yeah, I promise,” Bellamy swallows, “You’ve just gotta get through this first. One last step before you can move on.”

She nods her head slightly, before burying her head back in his shirt, “I’m gonna miss you, so much.”

Bellamy rests his chin on her head, “I’ll miss you too, baby. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

-

The first few weeks after leaving Clarke at Mount Weather are hard. Bellamy doesn’t doubt that things are harder for her right now, but they’re also not easy for him. He spends most of his time moping and wondering how Clarke is – and the answer is not good when they have their first couple of weekly calls. She cries and whines her way through them – complaining about the other patients and the therapy sessions and the staff and the activities they’re made to do. Bellamy has half a mind to drive up there and break her out if it keeps going on like this. She’s so unhappy. To make himself feel better he talks to Octavia – a lot. Until, that is, she gets so frustrated by his excessive attempts to contact her that she threatens to stop speaking to him again. He knows that she has a point – he’s being excessively clingy right now, even for him, so he does his best to give her some space and find something else to distract himself from Clarke (which turns out to be moping about her at the bar with Miller and Murphy).

Thankfully, the next time he speaks to Clarke, she seems to have calmed down a bit. She admits that things may not be as awful as she had first feared, and whilst she still clearly isn’t happy, she also isn’t in tears begging to come home, so it’s definitely an improvement. As the weeks pass and Clarke continues to settle and he spends less time worrying about her, Bellamy does have to admit that, in some ways, he does come to appreciate a quiet house (although he’d appreciate it a lot more if it was quiet with someone else in it).

Bellamy almost combusts of jealousy when he finds out Abby is being allowed to go and see Clarke – although that jealousy does dissipate slightly when he finds out its to join in on therapy sessions recommended by her counsellor. If he got told that he could come and visit, that would imply that their relationship is also something Clarke needs therapy sessions to help with and he really hopes it isn’t.

Clarke’s still in Mount Weather when her birthday comes. Bellamy isn’t allowed to send gifts, but since it’s a special day Clarke is allowed some extra internet privileges, which means they get an extra phone call. She actually seems to have had a relatively nice day. She’s friendly with some of the other patients who managed to convince one of the staff members to get her a birthday cake, and her birthday fell on a day that the art therapist came in, so she got to spend most of it doing what she loved. It was definitely the happiest he’d heard Clarke sound since she’d been admitted. She also tells him, excitement obvious in her voice, that her therapist has said that they can begin to make plans and work on skills she’ll need for when she leaves Mount Weather, which means that she was about to start the final stage of her treatment.

In the end, Clarke spends just under three months in rehab. It was the longest three months of Bellamy’s life, but they’re over and she’s coming home and soon she’ll be back in his arms, where she should be. Despite how hard he’d tried, Bellamy had been unable to get the day off work to go and pick Clarke up, meaning that he was stuck in the office when he knew that, if everything had gone to plan, Clarke would be back at the house with Abby by the middle of the afternoon. Suffice to say, he couldn’t focus at all. 

Bellamy didn’t go home after he finished work – instead he headed straight to Abby’s because he knew that’s where Clarke was and there was no way he was going to be away from her a for a moment longer than he had to be. Abby’s car is in the driveway wen he gets there, which means Clarke is definitely inside. He feels like a child on Christmas morning when they know they’re about to run downstairs and find a pile of presents. 

He’s obviously not the only one who’s been waiting for this moment. The front door is thrown open before he’s even made it onto the porch, and Clarke is standing there. She’s wearing his hoodie again, the same one that she’d been wearing when he had dropped her off three months ago and her hairs grown a couple of inches but the biggest difference for sure is obvious on her face. She’s smiling – eyes shining and there are no dark bags underneath them. She really looks happy, and he can’t describe how much he’s missed seeing her with a real smile on her face, even before she went to rehab it was a rare sight.

Clarke is wrapped in his arms within seconds of her opening the door, almost bowling him over in her excitement to get to him. He doesn’t care. She’s here, in his arms, happy and healthy and alive and there is nothing more important to him. 

Clarke’s home – and there’s nothing standing in the way of them and the rest of their lives. Bellamy knows it won’t always be easy, but it doesn’t need to be as long as Clarke is by his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end, I really hope you've all liked this. It definitely ended up about double the length I originally expected it to be and it took about five times as long to finish but oops.
> 
> Love you all xoxo
> 
> (please give me feedback I beg)


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